:VHRSII  \LIFORN 

THE    LIBRAi-- 

BENJAMIN  PARKE  AVERY. 


y 

Accessions  M>.  (P  3t(p\) 


GIFT  OF  MRS.  AVERY. 

1806. 

Oast 


THE    OLD    MASTERS. 


THE 

PRINCES   OF   ART 

I 
PAINTERS,  SCULPTORS, 

AND 

ENQRAVERS. 

TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    FRENCH 

• 
BY 

MRS.    S.    R.   URBINO. 


u? 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870,  by 

8.  R.  URBINO. 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


ELECTROTTPED  AT  THE 

BOSTON    STEREOTYPE    FOUNDRY, 

19  Spring  Lane. 


Cambridge :  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


U1I7BRSITY 


INTRODUCTORY. 


THE  FIN^  ARTS. 

A  FEW  remarks  upon  the  Fine  Arts  may  not  be 
out  of  place  in  a  work  like  this,  which  treats  of  the 
lives  and  productions  of  eminent  artists. 

All  sorts  of  works  are  arts,  properly  speaking,  and 
those  in  which  the  mind  is  mostly  engaged,  are  the 
fine  arts.  The  more  mechanical  are  those  of  unques- 
tionable utility,  and  the  perfection  to  which  they  are 
carried  constitutes  the  measure  of  civilization,  of  in- 
dustry and  wealth,  of  a  people.  The  others,  although 
their  chief  object  is  embellishment,  not  only  render 
him  who  cultivates  them  with  success  illustrious,  but 
also  the  city  where  he  was  born,  and  the  nation  to 
which  he  belongs. 

"The  fine  arts,"  says  an  ancient  author,  "arc  the 
children  of  genius ;  nature  is  their  model,  and  taste 
their  teacher.  Simplicity  ought  to  form  their  chief 
characteristic,  for  they  become  corrupted  when  they 
degenerate  into  luxury  and  show.  Our  own  feelings 

1  (!) 


2  INTRODUCTORY. 

lead  to  correct  judgment  'in  the  fine  arts  :  they  lose 
their  effect  if  they  speak  only  to  the  mind,  but  they 
triumph  when  they  touch  the  heart." 

Architecture,  Sculpture,  Painting,  Engraving,  Music, 
and  Poetry,  are  known  under  the  name  of  fine  arts. 

ARCHITECTURE. 

ARCHITECTURE  is  the  art  of  building.  As  soon  as 
man  felt  the  need  of  sheltering  himself  from  the  in- 
jurious effects  of  the  air,  and  defending  himself  against 
ferocious  animals,  he  sought  to  construct  a  habitation. 
Therefore  it  is  evident  that  the  origin  of  architecture 
dates  back  to  the  earliest  times.  The  Bible  says  that 
Cain  built  a  city,  after  the  death  of  his  brother  Abel, 
and  it  mentions  the  cities  of  Nineveh  and  Babylon, 
founded  by  Nimrod  the  hunter,  great  grandson  of 
Noah.  The  Egyptians  perfected  the  art;  but  the 
Greeks  were  the  first  to  unite  the  rules  of  this  art, 
form  a  method,  and  furnish  fine  models  to  posterity. 

The  Tuscans,  the  Romans,  then  the  French  and 
the  Italians,  had  celebrated  architects,  and  constructed 
magnificent  monuments.  Every  nation,  according  to 
its  taste  or  genius,  added  to,  or  took  from  what  had 
already  been  done.  These  changes  originated  the  dif- 
ferent orders,  which  are  distinguished  by  the  propor- 
tions and  various  ornaments  of  the  columns  which 
sustain  or  beautify  large  buildings. 


INTRODUCTORY.  3 

The  Greeks  had  three  orders  of  architecture :  the 
Doric,  Ionic,  and  the  Corinthian.  Solidity  is  the 
characteristic  of  the  Doric  order:  it  is  used  in  many 
public  edifices,  where  delicacy  and  ornament  would 
be  out  of  place. 

The  Corinthian  order  was  invented  by  Callimachus. 
It  is  said  that  this  artist,  passing  near  a  tomb,  was 
struck  by  the  fine  effect  produced  by  the  elegant  leaves 
of  the  acanthus  encircling  a  'basket,  which  had  been 
placed  in  their  midst.  The  artist  resolved  to  make  use 
of  the  ornament  thus  indicated  by  Nature  and  since 
that  time  ;  two  rows  of  acanthus  leaves,  at  the  top  of  a 
column,  mark  the  Corinthian  order. 

The  Ionic  holds  the  middle  place  between  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  Doric  and  the  elegance  of  the  Corinthian. 
The  temple  of  Diana,  at  Ephcsus,  which  passed  for 
one  of  the  seven  wonders  of  the  world,  was  of  this 
order. 

The  Tuscan  is  less  ornamented,  and  is  the  simplest 
of  the  orders .  The  Composite,  on  the  contrary,  is  even 
more  ornate  than  the  Corinthian,  but  is  less  esteemed, 
by  masters  in  art,  than  the  beautiful  architecture  of 
the  Greeks. 

The  Gothic  order,  of  which  the  old  churches  are  the 
finest  examples,  is  of  more  recent  creation,  and  differs 
from  the  antique  in  its  .proportions  and  ornaments. 
This  species  of  architecture  unites  sublime  simplicity 
with  incomparable  boldness.  Its  distinctive  sign  is 


4  INTEODUCTOKY. 

its  high  and  sharply  pointed-arches,  which  seem  to  bear 
the  prayers  of  the  faithful  heavenward. 

SCULPTUEE. 

SCULPTURE  is  the  art  of  reproducing  palpable  objects 
by  means  of  solid  materials ;  its  origin  is  lost  in  the 
night  of  ages. 

At  first,  the  sculptor  exercised  his  talent  upon  clay 
or  wax,  flexible  substances,  and  more  easily  worked 
than  wood  or  stone.  According  to  the  Greeks,  the 
first  sculptor  was  a  potter  of  Sicyon,  and  his  daughter 
the  first  designer,  because  she  traced  the  profile  of  her 
betrothed  upon  the  wall,  and  the  potter  obtained  the 
solid  portrait  of  his  future  son-in-law  by  filling  the 
spaces  between  the  charcoal  outlines  with  clay,  and 
then  baking  it. 

However,  there  is  nothing  to  justify  the  pretension 
of  the  Greeks,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  instinct  of 
imitation  with  which  man  is  endowed  would  have 
caused  him  to  make  similar  discoveries  in  various 
places.  Afterwards  more  venturous  persons  sought  to 
render  their  works  durable,  and  began  to  chisel  in  the 
hard  wood  of.  the  lemon,  cypress,  palm,  olive,  and 
ebony.  Finally  they  used  ivory,  stones,  and  metals  : 
marble  became  the  most  esteemed,  on  account  of  its 
solidity,  and  the  fineness  and  polish  of  its  grain. 

The  Egyptians  are  cited  among  the  first  people  who 


INTRODUCTORY.  5 

cultivated  the  art  of  sculpture.  They  raised  a  colossal 
statue  to  preserve  the  memory  of  King  Mocris,  and 
of  the  queen,  his  wife,  for  having  constructed  a  lake 
destined  to  assure  the  fertility  of  the  country.  A 
piece  of  Egyptian  statuary  was  the  work  of  many  ar- 
tists, each  one  occupying  himself  with  a  specialty,  and 
the  union  of  these  different  parts  forming  a  remarkable 
whole. 

If  the  Greeks  were  really  the  inventors  of  sculpture, 
it  made  very  little  progress  among  them  for  a  long 
time,  as  nothing  which  they  produced  before  the  travels 
of  Daedalus  in  Egypt  merits  attention  as  a  work  of 
art.  Dajdalus  studied  many  years  under  Egyptian  mas- 
ters :  on  his  return  to  Greece  he  opened  a  school  which 
produced  able  artists  and  fine  works.  Sculpture,  like 
other  arts,  was,  after  a  time,  perfected  by  the  Greeks, 
and  the  masterpieces  of  Myron,  Lysippus,  and  Phidias 
are  considered,  even  now,  as  the  most  perfect  statuary. 
This  judgment  might  be  considered  partial,  if  the  mod- 
erns, who  have  produced  such  admirable  works,  had 
not  made  use  of  the  antiques,  we  will  not  say  as  mod- 
els, but  as  guides,  in  teaching  that  true  beauty  consists 
in  the  imitation  of  nature. 

The  fine  arts,  friends  of  peace  and  liberty,  lost  their 
brilliancy  with  the  subjugation  of  Greece  by  the  Ro- 
mans.  The  masters  of  the  world,  knowing  little  of 
art,  did  not  think  of  preserving  the  works  left  by  cele- 
brated painters  and  sculptors.  As  the  Romans  neither 


6  INTRODUCTORY. 

knew  nor  appreciated  other  laurels  than  those  gained 
in  war,  they  did  not,  at  first,  envy  Greece  (which  they 
had  conquered  and  reduced  to  a  province  of  their  vast 
empire)  the  title  it  had  long  borne  of  the  home  of  the 
fine  arts  ;  but  when  they  realized  that  there  was  another 
glory  than  that  of  imposing  their  yoke  upon  nations, 
they  made  their  capital  an  asylum  for  the  learned  and 
for  artists. 

Sculpture,  however,  did  not  long  flourish  at  Rome. 
After  having  prospered  under  Augustus,  it  was  neg- 
lected by  his  successors.  The  protection  which  it  ob- 
tained from  Nero  was  injurious,  rather  than  beneficial, 
because  the  merit  of  a  piece  of  statuary,  according  to 
this  prince,  consisted  in  its  bulk ;  and  he  always  found 
a  statue  of  gigantic  proportions  admirable. 

The  arts,  which  had  declined  during  the  struggles 
of  the  Roman  empire,  did  not  find  the  impetus  neces- 
sary for  their  recovery  until  towards  the  end  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  The  most  brilliant  epoch  of  sculp- 
ture was  that  in  which  Julius  II.  and  Leo  X.  occu- 
pied the  pontifical  throne,  when  the  immortal  genius 
of  Michael  Angelo  shone  forth. 

Stone,  wood,  and  bronze  are  the  materials  most  gen- 
erally employed  by  sculptors ;  among  stones,  marble, 
as  we  have  already  observed,  is  preferred. 

The  artist,  to  whom  some  great  work  in  marble  is 
confided,  commences  by  making  a  model  of  the  statue 
or  group  which  he  undertakes  in  clay;  but  as  this 


INTRODUCTOKV.  7 

shrinks  in  drying,  the  first  effort  is  not  satisfactory,  and 
he  remoulds  it  in  plaster;  in  this  mould  he  runs  :i 
new  plaster  model,  from  which  he  takes  his  measures. 
After  having  chipped  off  the  grosser  parts  of  the  mar- 
ble which  he  is  about  to  use,  and  given  it  something 
of  the  form  to  be  represented,  he  begins  the  earnest 
part  of  his  work,  and  brings  forth  from  the  insensiMo 
mass  a  head  which  seems  to  think,  members  which 
seem  ready  to  move,  a  heart  which  apparently  throbs 
with  grief,  hope,  or  joy.  He  patiently  handles  the 
chisel,  and  then  removes  the  traces  of  his  labor;  with 
the  file  he  takes  away  the  lines  and  roughness  of  the 
marble,  so  that  nothing  remains  to  do  but  to  polish  it. 

Stone  is  sculptured  like  marble,  but  the  instruments 
used  are  not  so  strong,  and  one  is  obliged  to  have  at 
hand  moistened  plaster,  and  the  dust  of  the  stone  on 
which  he  is  working,  to  fill  up  cracks  and  cover  defects. 

AVood  is  used  for  small  models,  and  sometimes  for 
works  of  importance.  Carvings  in  wood,  of  which  mag- 
nificent specimens  are  found  in  many  ancient  churches, 
and  in  some  old  castles,  have  come  into  favor  after  hav- 
ing been  long  neglected,  and  the  carved  chests  and 
armorial  bearings  of  our  ancestors,  arm-chairs  artistical- 
ly wrought,  and  tables  with  ornamented  legs,  have  be- 
come real  objects  of  luxury  —  thanks  to  fashion,  which, 
this  time,  is  in  the  right. 

The  wood  of  the  oak  and  chestnut  are  used  for  large 
carvings,  the  pear  and  the  service  tree  for  smaller  ones, 


8  INTHODUCTOllY. 

and  the  linden  tree,  and  the  box  for  more  delicate 
works.  It  is  necessary  to  have  the  wood  thoroughly 
dry  before  using,  to  prevent  its  cracking. 

Besides  wood,  stone,  and  marble,  bronze  is  also  used 
to  reproduce  the  features  of  illustrious  warriors,  of  great 
artists,  and  of  the  benefactors  of  mankind,  and  so  trans- 
mit them,  as  well  as  memorable  events,  to  posterity. 

The  art  of  liquefying  metals  was  known  to  the  an- 
cients, but  it  is  thought  that  they  seldom  used  it  for 
casting  large  pieces  of  sculpture.  However,  it  is  said 
that  Myron,  a  celebrated  Greek  sculptor,  who  lived 
about  the  year  442  before  Christ,  cast  a  cow,  in  bronze, 
so  perfectly,  that  animals  themselves  were  deceived  by 
it.  Lysippus  of  Sicyon,  who  rendered  himself  illus- 
trious about  a  hundred  years  afterwards,  and  who  was 
selected  to  make  statues  of  Alexander  the  Great,  as 
Apelles  was  to  make  portraits  of  him,  cast  one  of  the 
statues  in  bronze,  which  was,  we  are  assured,  of  a 
marvellous  beauty.  It  came  into  the  possession  of  the 
Emperor  Nero,  who  valued  it  highly ;  but  being  only 
of  bronze,  he  wished  to  have  it  covered  with  a  layer  of 
gold.  The  attempt  was  unsuccessful ;  the  noble  work 
of  Lysippus  was  spoiled  in  taking  off  its  rich  covering. 
We  would  here  observe  that  this  great  sculptor  left 
no  less  than  six  hundred  pieces  of  statuary,  all  worthy 
of  note.  Among  them  were,  besides  the  statue  of  which 
we  have  spoken,  those  of  Socrates,  of  Alexander  as  a 
child,  and  one  of  Apollo,  forty  cubits  in  height,  known 
as  the  Apollo  of  Tarento. 


INTRODUCTORY.  9 

The  Romans  also  cast  their  sculptures  in  metal,  for 
example,  the  bronze  statue  of  Marcus  Aurclius ;  but 
that  statue,  like  those  of  Cosmo  de  Medici,  at  Florence, 
and  of  Henry  IV.,  at  Paris,  was  cast  in  different 
pieces.  The  equestrian  statue  of  Louis  XIV.  was  the 
first  colossal  group  made  by  one  casting ;  and  when  we 
consider  that  it  weighed  more  than  thirty  thousand  kilo- 
grams (sixty  thousand  pounds) ,  we  can  understand  the 
admiration  and  astonishment  caused  by  ther  success  of 
the  casting. 

Bronze  is  a  mixture  of  small  grains  of  copper  and 
zinc,  which,  by  fusion  acquire  a  degree  of  solidity  supe- 
rior to  all  other  metals. 

PAINTING. 

PAINTING  is  an  art  which  represents  all  visible  objects, 
upon  a  smooth  surface,  by  means  of  lines  and  colors. 
Like  all  other  arts,  it  was  imperfect  at  its  beginning. 
The  principal  features  of  a  figure  were  drawn,  and  it 
was  long  after  these  first  essays  that  colors  were  em- 
ployed. At  first  only  one  color  was  used  for  each 
sketch;  afterwards  four  —  blue,  red,  black,  and  yellow. 

Painting  remained  almost  stationary  in  Egypt,  where 
it  was  anciently  cultivated,  while  it  attained  a  high 
degree  of  perfection  in  Greece.  Zeuxis,  Parrhasius, 
Timanthes,  Protogenes,  and  Apelles  acquired  great 
celebrity  by  their  admirable  compositions. 


10  INTRODUCTORY. 

This  art  was  highly  esteemed  among  the  Eoinans ; 
but  they  could  not  dispute  the  palm  with  Greece. 
When  the  vast  empire  which  they  had  subdued  was 
crushed  by  the  fury  of  the  barbarians,  painting  appeared 
to  be  forever  buried  in  its  immense  ruins.  It  was  not 
until  towards  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century  that 
it  began  to  rise  again.  Cimabue,  a  Florentine  painter 
and  architect,  came  from  Constantinople  to  Italy,  where 
he  acquired  great  reputation,  after  having  studied  under 
the  Greek  masters.  Charles  I.,  King  of  Naples, 
honored  him  with  his  favor ;  and  his  example  having 
been  followed  by  other  sovereigns  of  Europe,  the  num- 
ber of  artists  increased,  and  painting  awoke  from  the 
lethargy  in  which  it  had  slumbered  for  centuries. 

The  first  paintings  were  in  distemper  and  fresco : 
painting  in  oil  was  not  discovered  until  1350. 

They  used  some  kind  of  glue  with  their  distemper 
colors,  and  painted  upon  plaster,  wood,  skins,  cloth, 
and  strong  paper.  This  kind  of  painting  is  durable 
when  protected  from  dampness ;  it  has  the  advantage 
of  producing  good  effect,  and  not  changing  color. 

The  word  fresco  (fresh)  is  Italian,  so  called  because 
this  painting  is  done  upon  freshly  plastered  or  stuccoed 
walls.  Colors  which  have  been  submitted  to  the  action 
of  fire,  and  earths  of  a  dry  nature,  only  are  used,  as 
others  would  be  injured  by  the  action  of  the  lime. 
Fresco  lasts  longer  than  any  other  kind  of  painting, 
and  for  this  reason  it  has  been  chosen  to  decorate  places 
exposed  to  the  air. 


INTliODUCTO: 


Three  things  are  necessary  for  fresco  painfing,  —  the 
sketch,  the  cartoons,  and  the  plastering.  Of  the  latter, 
two  coats  are  used  ;  the  first,  which  is  upon  the  stone, 
should  be  of  coarse  sand,  and  present  a  rough  surface, 
in  order  that  the  second  coat,  composed  of  mortar,  well- 
prepared  lime,  and  fine  river  sand,  may  stick  to  it.  The 
painting  is  done  upon  the  second  coat  of  plastering, 
which  is  laid  on  as  needed,  for  if  dry,  the  fresco  will  be 
unsatisfactory.  The  colors  are  mixed  witfy  water,  and 
must  be  used  freely,  or  the  painting  will  not  be  durable. 
The  great  masters  have  generally  left  magnificent  fres- 
coes. It  is  to  be  regretted  that  all  colors  cannot  be  used 
in  this  kind  of  painting  ;  there  are  shades  which  it  is 
found  impossible  to  represent. 

The  sketch  is  the  rough  draft  of  the  work  which  the 
painter  is  planning.  In  fresco,  the  sketch  is  usually 
much  smaller  than  the  picture  is  intended  to  be  :  this 
sketch  ought  not  only  to  represent  the  subject  in  all  its 
parts,  but  also  to  indicate  its  colors  ;  the  artist  is  obliged 
to  have  it  before  his  eyes,  and  to  observe  it  carefully, 
if  he  wishes  to  give  to  his  work  that  harmony  which 
constitutes  its  beauty. 

The  cartoons  for  fresco  painting  are  composed  of 
many  leaves  of  thick  paper  stuck  together.  Upon 
these  the  painter  designs  as  much  work  as  he  can  do  in 
a  day  ;  and  when  the  plastering,  upon  which  he  ought 
to  work,  has  taken  the  requisite  degree  of  solidity,  he 
applies  the  cartoon,  and  traces  the  drawing  with  a 


12  INTRODUCTORY. 

pointed  instrument ;  then,  when  all  the  lines  are  traced 
upon  the  wall,  he  begins  to  paint. 

In  Oil  Painting  all  the  colors  are  ground,  and  mixed 
with  drying  oil.  This  kind  of  painting  offers  the  great- 
est advantages  for  vivacity,  the  mixture  of  tints,  and 
delicacy  of  execution.  Besides,  it  permits  the  artist 
to  devote  more  time  to  his  work,  and  give  it  a  better 
finish,  to  retouch  it,  and  take  away  whatever  displeases 
him,  without  effacing  all  that  he  has  done. 

Painting  in  oil  was,  at  first,  done  upon  boards,  then 
upon  copper,  finally  upon  canvas  or  taffeta  :  the  use  of 
canvas  has  been  perpetuated  to  the  present  time. 

Miniature  painting  resembles  distemper  painting,  in- 
asmuch as  the  colors  are  mixed  with  water  and  size,  or 
other  glutinous  matter.  Miniatures  are  painted  upon 
fine-grained  paper,  or  wood,  prepared  for  the  purpose ; 
but  ivory  is  generally  preferred.  This  kind  of  paint- 
ing requires  much  patience  and  great  care,  particularly 
in  the  gradations  of  color  and  finishing  touches.  A 
glazing,  similar  to  varnish,  is  usually  applied  to  pre- 
serve them. 

Another  kind  of  painting,  called  Mixed  Painting,  is 
made  from  the  stippling  of  the  miniature  and  the  bolder 
manner  of  the  distempter  style ;  it  is  equally  good  for 
large  or  small  pictures.  The  most  delicate  parts  are 
finished  by  stippling  ;  force  and  character  are  given  by 
bold  strokes.  Correggio  has  left  two  magnificent  pieces 
done  in  this  manner. 


INTRODUCTORY.  13 

The  Pastel  is  a  kind  of  painting  in  which  crayons  of 
different  colors  take  the  place  of  the  hair  pencil.  These 
crayons  are  made  of  a  paste  (pasta) ,  and  formed  into 
little  rolls  while  soft. 

Pastel  is  considered  the  easiest  kind  of  painting,  be- 
cause one  can  leave  the  work  and  take  it  up  again  at 
convenience.  Common  tinted  paper,  pasted  on  thin 
board,  is  generally  used.  The  picture,  when  finished, 
is  put  under  glass,  which  protects  the  colors,  and  gives 
them  an  agreeable  gloss. 

The  Mosaic  is  a  painting  composed  of  small  stones, 
of  different  colors.  There  are  beautiful  fragments  of 
mosaic,  of  very  ancient  origin,  in  Rome,  and  other  cities 
of  Italy.  The  artist,  who  wishes  to  make  a  mosaic, 
must  have  the  picture  which  he  will  imitate  before  him, 
and  cartoons  of  the  exact  size  of  his  work.  The  little 
stones  which  he  uses,  are  assorted  according  to  their 
shades  of  color,  and  placed  in  baskets,  or  boxes,  from 
which  he  can  easily  take  them.  The  stones  should  have 
a  flat  and  even  surface,  without  brilliancy  or  polish,  be- 
cause if  they  reflect  the  light  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish 
their  colors.  After  having  traced  his  cartoons  with  a 
point  upon  the  plaster  designed  to  be  used,  the  artist 
dips  the  stones  into  a  liquid  mortar,  and  disposes  them 
as  their  forms  and  colors  require.  This  kind  of  paint- 
ing ought  to  last  as  long  as  the  wall  upon  which  it  is 
done. 

Camaieu  is  a  mode  of  painting  in  which  there  are  but 


14  INTRODUCTORY. 

two  colors,  or  black  and  white  only ;  thus  the  paintings 
which  represent  basso-relievos  of  marble  or  stone  are 
camaieux.  When  the  ground  work  is  yellow,  the 
French  call  it  cirage;  when  gray,  as  upon  the  windows 
of  some  old  churches,  grisaille. 

In  painting,  the  word  school  means  the  union  of 
artists  who  have  learned  their  art  from  the  same  mas- 
ter, and  who  adhere  to  the  principles  given  by  the 
founder  of  the  mode  he  uses.  Great  schools  do  not 
bear  the  name  of  the  master,  but  of  the  country  which 
he  has  rendered  illustrious. 

The  Byzantine  school,  founded  at  Byzantium,  by 
Greek  artists,  reanimated  the  taste  for  the  arts  in  Italy. 
These  ancient  painters  have  left  very  few  pictures,  yet 
those  few  are  very  marked  in  style.  Painting  was  then 
in  its  infancy.  They  represented  only  long  and  straight 
figures,  like  columns,  all  having  the  same  attitude  and 
the  same  physiognomy,  or,  rather,  having  no  physiogno- 
my. Great  ignorance  of  the  rules  of  drawing,  of 
anatomy,  of  perspective,  and  of  chiaro-scuro  is  mani- 
fested in  all  the  works  which  have  come  from  this 
school. 

After  the  Byzantine  comes  the  Italian  school,  which, 
on  account  of  the  great  number  of  artists  it  has  pro- 
duced, is  subdivided  into  the  Florentine,  Roman,  Vene- 
tian, Lombardic,  Bolognese,  and  Neapolitan. 

Of  these  the  Florentine  is  the  oldest ;  it  is  celebrated 
for  vivid  and  fruitful  imagination,  bold,  correct,  and 


INTRODUCTORY.  15 

graceful  pencilling,  and  a  style  which  is  noble,  and 
often  sublime.  Cimabue  was  the  founder  of  this  school, 
but  Leonardo  da  Vinci  and  Michael  Angelo  are  con- 
sidered as  its  masters. 

The  Roman  school  may  be  traced  nearly  to  the  same 
epoch  as  the  Florentine ;  it  is  distinguished  by  a  poeti- 
cal charm,  by  purity,  and  admirable  sweetness,  and  an 
easy  and  elegant  touch,  while  it  is  correct  and  learned. 
Perrugino  is  the  father  of  the  Roman  school,  but  Raphael 
is  its  glory.  The  only  reproach  which  can  be  made  of 
the  painters  of  this  school,  is  their  having  somewhat 
neglected  coloring. 

The  Venetian  school,  at  the  head  of  which  stand 
Titian  and  Paul  Veronese,  is  renowned  for  admirable 
coloring,  knowledge  of  chiaro-scuro,  a  graceful  and  live- 
ly style,  and  a  seductive  imitation  of  nature.  But  if 
the  Roman  school  can  be  reproached  for  not  having 
studied  coloring,  in  which  the  Venetian  excelled,  the 
latter  can  be  reproached  for  having  somewhat  neglected 
drawing,  in  which  the  Roman  painters  are  so  correct. 

The  Lombardic  school,  which  recognizes  Correggio 
as  its  founder,  has  a  right  to  be  proud  of  its  pure  draw- 
ing, its  taste,  its  fine  composition,  its  soft  and  easy 
pencilling,  and  its  noble  and  graceful  manner. 

The  Bolognese  school,  founded  by  Francis,  produced 
no  great  artists  at  first,  but  the  Carracci  built  it  up ;  if 
it  did  not  attain  the  glory  of  the  preceding  schools,  it 
was  distinguished  for  science  of  composition,  purity  of 


16  INTRODUCTORY. 

drawing,  truth  of  coloring,  and  understanding  of  chiaro- 
scuro. Domenichino  and  Guido,  pupils  of  the  Car- 
racci,  contributed  much  to  the  celebrity  of  this  school. 

The  Genoese  school,  which  is  not  wanting  in  bold- 
ness and  grace,  has  not  produced  any  of  the  eminent 
men  whose  names  form  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  Art. 

The  Neapolitan  school  boasts  of  Salvator  Rosa ;  but 
this  great  artist,  who  originated  prodigies,  had  a  man- 
ner peculiar  to  himself,  which  no  other  painter  was 
capable  of  imitating. 

The  Spanish  school,  which  has  often  been  classed  with 
the  Neapolitan,  produced  Ribera,  Velasquez,  and  Mu- 
rillo.  The  name  of  the  last  suffices  to  illustrate  it. 
Perfect  drawing,  elevated  thoughts,  brilliant  imagina- 
tion, a  firm  touch,  a  remarkable  imitation  of  nature, 
something  proud,  poetic,  and  bold,  distinguish  the 
Spanish  school. 

The  German  school  represented  objects  with  their 
imperfections,  and  not  as  artists  usually  like  to  see 
them  :  it  was  skilful  in  coloring,  but  stiff  in  design ;  its 
figures  wanting  in  expression,  and  its  drapery  in  grace- 
fulness and  taste.  However,  some  masters  of  this 
school  have  avoided  those  errors  with  which  connois- 
seurs reproach  German  painting  in  general.  Albert 
Durer  is  the  glory  of  this  school. 

The  Flemish  school  is  of  very  ancient  origin ;  but  it 
did  not  become  celebrated  until  towards  the  middle  of 
the  fourteenth  century,  when  Jean  Van  Eyck,  surnamed 


INTRODUCTORY.  17 

Jean  of  Bruges,  invented  oil  painting ;  and  it  was  not 
at  the  height  of  its  brilliancy  until  long  after,  under 
Rubens  and  Van  Dyke,  who  are  ranked  among  the  first 
painters  in  the  world.  Easy  pencilling,  a  profound 
knowledge  of  the  mixing  of  colors,  of  chairo-scuro,  a 
fine  finish,  with  much  grace  and  truthfulness,  are  the 
distinctive  characteristics  of  the  Flemish  style. 

The  Dutch  school  recommends  itself  by  similar  quali- 
ties ;  but  it  has  produced  more  painters  of  landscapes, 
or  of  interior  scenes,  than  of  history.  Its  most  cele- 
brated artist  is  Rembrandt,  who,  like  Salvator  Rosa, 
has,  as  yet,  had  no  imitator. 

Through  the  study  of  the  masters  of  all  countries,  the 
French  school  has  formed  a  manner  which  it  would  be 
difficult  to  define,  but  which  has  not  the  less  become  its 
own  and  original  style.  The  grace,  elegance,  and  spirit 
which  characterize  this  nation  are  constantly  visible, 
and  genius  often  shines  in  its  paintings.  The  French 
school  excels  in  noble  style  and  in  history.  Poussin 
and  Sueur  have  best  illustrated  it. 

Of  all  the  schools  of  ^which  we  have  spoken,  the 
French  is  the  only  one  which  can  be  proud  of  its  living 
artists  :  other  schools  have  nothing  more  than  recollec- 
tions ;  for,  after  having  shone  with  splendor  in  Italy, 
Flanders,  and  Spain,  art  has  fallen  into  decay,  and  is 
now  waiting  for  some  great  genius,  gifted  with  power 
to  resuscitate  the  glory  of  the  past. 

The  French  school  is  subdivided  into  many  others, 
2 


18  INTRODUCTORY. 

which  have  received  the  names  of  their  several  masters  — 
the  school  of  Poussin,  the  school  of  Le  Brun,  &c. 

The  English  school  dates  back  but  one  century,  and 
affects  a  peculiar  character.  Hogarth,  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  among  English  painters,  was  a  remarkable 
satirist,  rather  than  a  great  painter ;  but  there  are  at 
present  many  artists  who  are  an  honor  to  England, 
where  the  fine  arts  will,  without  doubt,  soon  be  culti- 
vated with  as  much  success  as  commerce  and  manufac- 
tures. 

ENGRAVING. 

ENGRAVING  is  the  art  of  representing  the  lights  and 
shades  of  visible  objects  upon  hard  substances,  by  means 
of  drawing  and  cutting.  The  art  of  engraving  upon 
crystal,  glass,  and  precious  stones  was  known  to  the 
ancients ;  and  although  they  may  have  engraved  their 
inscriptions  and  their  laws  upon  bronze  and  marble, 
they  never  thought  to  reproduce  upon  metal  the  pic- 
tures which  they  were  desirous"  to  transmit  to  posterity. 

This  discovery  was  reserved  for  the  moderns.  A 
Florentine  goldsmith,  named  Maso  Finiguerra,  passes 
for  the  inventor  of  engraving ;  and  it  was  by  chance 
that  he  learned  the  advantages  which  art  could  derive 
from  it.  While  chiselling  gold  and  silver,  he  noticed 
that  the  melted  sulphur,  which  he  used,  preserved  the 
impression  of  the  drawings  which  he  had  traced  upon 


INTRODUCTORY.  19 

the  metal,  and  reproduced  them  upon  paper,  the  sul- 
phur having  taken  off  the  black  which  was  found  in  the 
lines  made  upon  the  gold  or  silver.  He  spoke  of  his 
discovery  to  one  of  his  companions,  who  engraved  a 
small  picture  upon  copper,  and  took  a  number  of  copies 
from  it.  This  invention  passed  into  Flanders,  and 
many  painters  of  talent  used  it  to  make  themselves 
known  in  Europe. 

Engraving,  which  appeared  in  France  in  the  time  of 
Francis  I.,  was  perfected  during  the  following  reigns, 
and  brought  to  honor  by  the  greatest  of  artists. 

Engraving  is  done  upon  wood,  shell,  and  copper, 
either  with  a  graver  or  the  use  of  aquafortis.  The 
graver  is  good  for  portraits ;  the  aquafortis  is  preferable 
for  small  works,  and  gives  them  a  lightness  and  finish 
not  easily  attained  with  the  graver. 


ARCHITECTS  AND  SCULPTORS. 


PHIDIAS. 

PHIDIAS,  who  was  born  at  Athens,  about  five  hun- 
dred years  before  Christ,  devoted  himself  to  the  study 
of  sculpture.  Great  genius  and  assiduous  labor  per- 
mitted him  to  realize  wonders,  and  so  carry  the  art,  then 
in  its  infancy,  to  a  high  degree  of  perfection.  Having 
acquired  a  reputation  by  some  fine  pieces  of  statuary, 
his  fellow-citizens  demanded  of  him  a  statue  of  Minerva, 
and  at  the  same  time  required  one  of  Alcamenes,  who 
was  also  celebrated  as  a  sculptor.  These  two  statues 
were  to  be  submitted  to  the  judgment  of  competent  per- 
sons, and  the  most  beautiful  was  to  be  placed  upon  a 
column  which  the  city  should  erect.  A  great  reward 
was  promised  to  the  victor,  but  this  was  the  least  con- 
sideration to  the  two  artists,  equally  jealous  of  glory  and 
honor.  They  commenced  their  work,  and  each  sought 
to  secure  the  prize  by  displaying  all  the  resources  of 
his  talent. 

(21) 


22  THE   PEINCES   OF  ART. 

On  the  day  of  trial  the  two  statues  were  removed  to 
the  public  square,  in  presence  of  the  judges,  and  a  crowd 
assembled  to  salute  the  happy  victor.  When  the  cloth 
which  concealed  the  Minerva  of  Alcamenes  was  raised, 
they  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise  and  admiration ;  they  had 
never  seen  anything  more  beautiful,  more  pure,  or  more 
finished  than  this  statue,  which  they  almost  believed  to 
be  living.  Phidias,  as  calm  as  if  he  had  not  heard  the 
praises  given  to  Alcamenes,  showed  his  work  in  his 
turn.  The  Athenians  had  expected  something  better 
from  the  talent  of  Phidias ;  his  Minerva  appeared  to  be 
only  a  kind  of  rough  model ;  and  thinking  this  negligence 
of  the  sculptor  was  a  mark  of  disdain,  they  broke  into 
loud  expressions  of  disapprobation.  The  partisans  of 
Phidias  were  quiet,  those  of  Alcamenes  gave  vent  to 
their  joy. 

The  judges  commanded  silence,  and,  after  another 
examination,  and  a  short  deliberation,  they  felicitated 
Alcamenes,  and  believed  it  a  duty  to  recommend  to 
Phidias  to  work  with  more  Qare,  not  doubting,  they  said, 
that  with  time  and  patience  he  might,  at  a  future  day, 
succeed  in  equalling  his  rival.  The  crowd,  by  their  ap- 
proval, manifested  that  they  held  the  same  opinion  as 
the  judges ;  and  Alcamenes,  filled  with  delight,  ap- 
proached to  receive  the  prize  awarded  him.  But  Phid- 
ias, instead  of  retiring,  sad  and  confused,  advanced 
towards  the  tribune  reserved  to  the  jury,  and  asked  per- 
mission to  address  one  question  to  the  illustrious  mem- 
bers of  which  it  was  composed. 


AHCIIITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  23 

f?  Is  it  not  at  the  top  of  a  column  that  the  statue  pre- 
ferred is  to  be  placed?"  he  asked,  when  permission  was 
granted  him  to  speak. 

"Without  doubt,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Then  would  it  not  be  well  to  see  the  effect  produced 
by  these  statues  from  its  height,  before  giving  judgment  ?  " 
said  Phidias. 

Every  one  was  struck  by  the  justice  of  this  idea,  and 
the  machines,  destined  to  raise  the  Minerva,  having 
been  already  prepared,  the  trial  was  made  at  once. 
The  statue  of  Alcamenes,  seen  from  a  distance,  lost  all 
the  fascination  which  it  owed  to  the  perfection  of  its  de- 
tails and  its  admirable  finish ;  while  that  of  Phidias, 
which  had  at  first  shocked  the  spectators  by  its  mas- 
sive and  abrupt  appearance,  took  a  character  of  grandeur 
and  majesty  which  astonished  them.  It  was  no  longer 
possible  to  make  a  comparison  between  the  two  statues, 
and  as  each  one  wished  to  atone  for  his  involuntary  in- 
justice, Phidias  was  proclaimed  victor,  with  great  en- 
thusiasm. 

From  that  time  this  celebrated  sculptor  had  no  more 
rivals  ;  not  only  were  his  genius  and  ability  recognized, 
but  also  his  profound  knowledge  of  all  that  pertained  to 
his  art. 

The  war  between  the  Greeks  and  Persians  broke  out 
soon  after,  and  the  latter,  proud  of  the  superiority  of 
their  forces,  hoped  they  could  easily  crush  the  Greeks, 
who  had  the  audacity  to  attempt  to  defend  themselves. 


24  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

Before  the  battle  of  Marathon,  they  had  prepared  a 
block  of  marble,  of  which  they  wished  to  make  a  mon- 
ument, destined  to  perpetuate  the  remembrance  of  their 
victory.  But  they  had  reckoned  without  considering 
the  courage  of  their  enemies,  the  enthusiasm  which  cen- 
tuples armies,  the  love  of  country  which  inspires  the 
feeblest  hearts  with  heroism  ;  they  were  completely  beat- 
en ;  and  the  marble  intended  as  a  trophy  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Athenians,  who  transported  it  to  their  city, 
and  placed  it  at  the  disposition  of  Phidias.  The  sculptor 
made  of  it  a  Nemesis,  the  goddess  of  vengeance.  The 
work  was  as  much  admired  as  the  ingenuity  of  the  idea ; 
and  the  Nemesis  was  preserved  as  one  of  the  dearest  and 
most  glorious  of  souvenirs. 

Phidias  was  afterwards  engaged  to  make  a  colossal 
statue  of  Minerva  for  the  Parthenon, —  a  famous  temple 
dedicated  to  that  goddess.  He  made  a  Minerva  twenty- 
five  cubits  high,  so  beautiful  that,  although  of  gold  and 
ivory,  the  richness  of  the  materials  was  its  least  merit. 
People  came  from  all  parts  of  the  country  to  contem- 
plate this  masterpiece  of  statuary ;  and  Phidias,  laden 
with  wealth  and  honors,  was  the  object  of  the  respect 
and  admiration  of  his  countrymen ;  but  the  Athenians, 
so  justly  considered  the  most  fickle  people  in  the  world, 
soon  forgot  how  much  they  were  indebted  to  the  glory 
of  this  great  man,  and,  naturally  jealous  of  all  supe- 
riority, they  vexed  and  irritated  him  until  he  became 
tired  of  their  unreasonable  demands  and  injustice,  and 


ARCHITECTS    AND   SCULPTORS.  25 

yielded  to  thoughts  of  vengeance,  which  he  had  hitherto 
repelled. 

He  could  revenge  himself  only  as  an  artist.  He 
understood  too  well  how  proud  the  Athenians  were  of 
possessing  his  statue  at  the  Parthenon, —  the  richest  piece 
of  sculpture  in  all  Greece, —  not  to  hesitate  upon  the 
punishment  he  intended  to  inflict  upon  them.  He  had 
no  thought  of  destroying  this  work,  upon  which  he  had 
wrought  with  so  much  love  ;  but,  sure  of  his  own  powers, 
he  determined  to  endow  some  other  city  with  a  statue 
still  more  beautiful.  Having  formed  this  resolution,  he 
quitted  the  ungrateful  place  of  his  birth,  and  travelled 
through  Greece,  meditating  upon  the  work  which  he 
would  execute  wherever  he  should  take  up  his  abode. 

The  Helenes,  who  knew  of  his  rare  merit,  received  him 
with  great  honors,  and  he  consented  to  remain  some  time 
in  their  city,  engaging  to  leave  a  souvenir  of  his  sojourn. 
They  were  delighted  to  furnish  all  that  he  required, 
without  even  asking  him  what  he  intended  to  do.  Sen- 
sibly affected  by  this  confidence  in  his  talent,  he  decided 
to  seek  no  farther  for  a  home  in  which  he  would  place 
his  most  beautiful  work,  and  undertook  his  statue  of 
Jupiter  Olympus.  The  Minerva  of  the  Parthenon 
was  forgotten,  or  at  least  only  occupied  the  second 
rank  among  the  valuable  works  of  this  sculptor ;  and 
public  admiration  placed  the  Jupiter  Olympus  among 
the  seven  wonders  of  the  world. 

The  Athenians  repented  of  their  ingratitude  when 


26  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

they  saw  this  masterpiece, —  the  greatest  work  of  art, — 
and  begged  Phidias  to  make  something  as  remarkable 
for  them ;  but  their  flattery  and  supplications  were  of 
no  avail :  the  sculptor,  certain  of  not  being  surpassed, 
laid  down  his  chisel,  never  to  resume  it. 

The  name  of  Phidias  has  remained  one  of  the  great- 
est, not  only  of  Greece,  but  of  the  world.  The  first  of 
sculptors,  he  studied  Nature  to  reproduce  it,  and  knew 
how  to  imitate  it  in  all  its  grace  and  beauty ;  and  when 
he  wished  to  represent  Divinity,  it  was  done  with  so 
much  majesty,  grandeur,  and  power,  that,  in  the  words 
of  an  ancient  author,  his  chisel  seemed  to  have  been 
guided  by  Divinity  itself. 


PKAXITELES. 

Praxiteles  flourished  about  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  years  before  Christ,  that  is  to  say,  about  a  century 
after  Phidias.  Endowed  with  great  genius,  he  realized 
all  that  the  most  ambitious  and  most  devoted  artist  could 
desire.  Marble  seemed  to  become  animated  under  his 
chisel,  and  nothing  could  give  an  idea  of  the  ravishing 
beauty  of  his  works.  Those  whom  he  permitted  to  visit 
his  studio,  remained  in  ecstasy  before  the  first  piece  of 
statuary  offered  to  their  view ;  feeling  sure  that  it  would 
be  impossible  to  see  anything  better,  they  were  disin- 
clined to  look  farther.  When  Praxiteles  had  succeeded 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  27 

in  attracting  their  attention  to  another  group,  they  for- 
got the  first,  and  finally  remained  uncertain  to  which 
they  could  give  preference.  Such  embarrassment  was 
considered  by  the  sculptor  as  his  greatest  triumph ;  it 
was  to  him  the  proof  of  a  pleasure  seldom  enjoyed  by 
the  greatest  artists,  whose  genius  is  generally  fitful, 
while  he  was  ever  master  of  his  own. 

The  famous  Phryne,  having  obtained  permission  to 
choose,  from  among  the  works  of  the  celebrated  sculp- 
tor, that  which  she  liked  best,  found  it  so  difficult  to  de- 
cide, that  she  asked  the  advice  of  Praxiteles  himself. 
The  artist  avoided  giving  her  an  answer ;  he  did  not 
wish  to  deceive  her,  and  did  not  care  to  give  up  his  best 
piece.  But  Phryne  was  not  to  be  discouraged.  As 
cunning  as  she  was  beautiful,  she  resolved  to  obtain  by 
stratagem  that  which  had  been  refused  her. 

One  night,  Praxiteles  was  aroused  from  sleep  by  the 
cry  of  fire ;  and,  springing  up,  he  rushed,  half  dressed, 
from  his  chamber. 

Phryne,  who  feigned  to  have  come  in  with  those  who 
were  about  him,  begged  him  to  calm  himself,  saying, 
"It  is  only  your  studio  which  is  on  fire." 

At  these  words,  Praxiteles,  who  feared  more  for  his 
works  than  for  himself,  ran  towards  the  place  designated, 
crying  out,  "  Quick,  quick,  my  friends !  Save  my 
Satyr  and  my  Cupid  !  Perhaps  it  is  not  too  late  !  Alas, 
I  am  lost  if  the  flames  have  destroyed  them  !  " 

Phryne  learned  what  she  wished  to  know  :  she  stopped 


28  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

Praxiteles,  and  avowed  that  it  was  only  a  trick  which 
she  had  played,  in  order  to  draw  from  him  his  secret, 
and  requiring  the  performance  of  his  promise,  demanded 
his  Cupid.  Praxiteles  had  been  so  much  frightened  at 
the  thought  of  losing  his  studio,  that  he  received  the 
acknowledgment  of  Phryne  as  good  news ;  and  in  the 
height  of  his  joy,  forgave  her  the  injury  she  had  done 
him,  and  allowed  her  to  take  away  the  chef-d'oeuvre 
which  he  had  designated  as  his  choice. 

Another  statue  of  Love,  made  to  replace  the  first, 
was  the  boast  of  the  ancients,  as  incomparable ;  then 
came  a  statue  of  Phryne,  a  Venus,  which  equalled  it, 
and  a  second  Venus,  more  perfect  still.  This  last  statue 
was,  for  a  long  time,  in  the  possession  of  the  inhabitants 
of  Cnidos  :  they  regarded  it  as  an  inestimable  treasure. 

Praxiteles  gloriously  pursued  his  career,  and  gave  to 
each  of  his  numerous  works  the  seal  of  grandeur,  truth, 
and  grace  which  caused  them  to  be  sought  as  the  most 
perfect  statuary.  He  studied  nature  patiently,  and 
knew  how  to  embellish  it  without  making  it  lose  any- 
thing of  its  life  and  its  simplicity. 

It  is  said  that  the  famous  statue  of  Love,  by  Prax- 
iteles, was  possessed  by  Isabella  of  Este,  grandmother 
of  the  Dukes  of  Mantua.  She  had  also  a  Cupid  by 
Michael  Angelo.  One  day,  when  she  received,  at  Pavia, 
M.  de  Foix  and  President  de  Thou,  sent  to  Italy  by 
the  King  of  France,  the  conversation  turned  upon  the 
arts ;  and  the  princess,  at  the  request  of  the  two  noble 


ARCHITECTS    AND    SCULPTORS.  29 

strangers,  showed  them  the  work  of  Michael  Angelo. 
They  viewed  it  with  admiration,  and  thanked  Isabella, 
saying,  it  was  impossible  to  see  anything  more  beauti- 
ful. The  princess  smiled ;  and  conducting  them  into 
her  cabinet,  invited  them  to  look  at  another  statue,  like- 
wise representing  Love.  They  were  greatly  surprised 
to  find  this  last  much  superior  to  the  one  they  had  been 
praising,  and  looking  at  each  other,  were  at  a  loss  to 
find  words  to  express  their  enthusiasm. 

"  Michael  Angelo  is  the  king  of  modern  sculpture," 
said  Isabella,  "  but  Praxiteles  is  the  divinity  of  ancient 
art." 

It  is  by  the  study  of  the  antique  that  the  genius  of 
the  greatest  artists,  both  painters  and  sculptors,  has 
been  developed.  The  antique  is  the  surest  rule  for 
beauty  and  truth ;  and  although  all  the  pieces  of  sculp- 
ture which  the  ancients  have  left  us  are  not  equally 
perfect,  all  have  the  character  of  grandeur  and  simplicity, 
which  prevents  connoisseurs  confounding  them  „  with 
modern  works.  As  to  those  of  Phidias,  of  Praxiteles, 
and  many  other  Greek  sculptors,  they  are  distinguished 
by  sublime  taste,  correct  and  sprightly  execution,  and 
elegant  outlines  ;  combining  a  happy  charm  of  the  most 
beautiful  in  nature,  noble  expression,  great  variety,  a 
sobriety  in  ornament  which  rejects  artificiality,  and, 
finally,  a  majesty,  which  excludes  neither  simplicity  nor 
grace. 


30  THE  PRINCES  OF  ART. 

POLYCLETUS. 

After  Praxiteles  came  Polycletus,  who  carried  art  to 
a  higher  point  of  glory  than  it  had  before  attained.  He 
was  born  at  Sicyon,  a  city  of  Peloponnesus,  in  the  year 
of  the  world  3760,  and  soon  became  known  by  his  mag- 
nificent productions.  He  took  pleasure  in  teaching  the 
principles  of  sculpture  to  the  great  number  of  pupils 
whom  his  reputation  had  drawn  to  him.  Wishing  to 
leave  to  all  these  young  artists,  formed  by  his  care,  a 
model,  to  which  they  could  have  recourse  when  his  ad- 
vice failed,  he  caused  the  best  formed  men  that  could 
be  found  to  be  brought  to  him ;  and,  selecting  that 
which  was  irreproachable,  in  each  of  them,  he  formed 
a  statue  in  which  all  the  proportions  of  the  human  body 
were  so  perfectly  observed,  that  people  came  from  all 
parts,  not  only  to  admire,  but  to  consult  it.  This 
chef-<f(Kuvre  was  named  The  Rule,  first  by  Polycletus, 
and  afterwards  by  the  learned,"  and  by  connoisseurs. 

Like  most  of  the  Greek  painters,  this  able  sculptor 
exposed  the  productions  of  his  chisel  to  public  criticism, 
and,  like  Apelles,  he  met  more  than  one  shoemaker 
who  pretended  to  go  beyond  his  last.  "Wishing  to 
give  a  lesson  to  these  ignorant  people,  who  thought  they 
knew,  and  allowed  themselves  to  judge,  of  everything, 
he  made  over  a  statue,  which  had  been  submitted  to  the 
examination  of  the  crowd,  according  to  the  various  ad- 


ARCHITECTS  AND  SCULPTORS.          31 

vice  which  had  been  given  him,  and  composed  a  simi- 
lar one,  taking  only  the  rules  of  art  and  his  own  genius 
for  his  guide.  Having  finished  the  two,  he  exposed 
them  both  to  the  public,  and  awaited  the  effect  which 
they  should  produce. 

The  beholders  could  not  find  sufficient  praise  for  the 
last,  or  sarcasm  for  the  first,  which  they  by  no  means 
attributed  to  the  great  Polycletus.  The  sculptor  then 
showed  himself  to  the  people,  and  said, — 

"  The  statue  at  which  you  rail  is  your  own  work,  that 
which  you  admire  is  mine." 

Turning  towards  his  disciples,  he  added,  "Never  for- 
get that  a  capable  artist  ought  to  listen  to  criticism,  as 
an  advice  which  can  be  useful  to  him,  but  not  as  a  law 
which  he  is  to  follow. 


LEONARDO  DA  VINCI. 

Leonardo  da  Vinci  was  born  at  the  castle  of  Vinci, 
near  Florence,  in  1452.  His  father,  notary  of  the 
Seigniory  of  Florence,  gave  him  an  excellent  education, 
and  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  its  advantages.  There 
was  never  a  mortal  more  richly  endowed  than  Leonardo  : 
a  fine  figure,  robust  constitution,  superior  intelligence, 
great  force  of  character,  prodigious  memory,  and  a 
pleasant  disposition,  made  him  all  that  a  parent  could 
wish. 


32  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

He  learned,  with  great  facility,  history,  geography, 
mathematics,  architecture,  drawing,  and  music ;  he 
seemed  to  understand  the  elements  of  these  sciences, 
even  before  they  were  explained  to  him,  and  after  hav- 
ing studied  some  time,  puzzled  his  teachers  by  questions 
which  they  found  it  difficult  to  answer.  He  was  not 
only  the  first  in  his  studies,  but  none  of  his  schoolmates 
could  equal  him  in  expertness,  in  strength,  or  in  good 
humor.  He  always  went  from  recreation  to  labor  with- 
out regret,  and  considered  the  dryest  studies  as  a  succes- 
sion of  pleasures,  the  variety  of  which  amused  him. 

Arithmetic,  geometry,  and  mechanics  afforded  him 
much  gratification,  and,  singular  to  say,  he  was  passion- 
ately fond  of  poetry.  When  he  had  finished  his  studies, 
he  continued  to  write  poetry,  practise  music,  and  also 
painting.  His  father  expected  that  he  would  succeed 
him  in  the  office  of  notary ;  but  when  he  perceived  the 
young  man's  taste  for  art,  he  allowed  him  to  select  the 
career  most  agreeable  to  him.  Leonardo  was  undeter- 
mined, when  Andrea  del  Verrochio,  a  celebrated  painter 
of  Florence,  and  friend  of  his  family,  having  seen  some 
of  his  sketches,  advised  him  to  devote  himself  to  paint- 
ing, and  invited  him  to  work  in  his  studio.  Leonardo 
accepted  the  invitation,  and  soon  became  one  of  Master 
Andrea's  best  pupils. 

This  painter,  being 'much  hurried  to  finish  a  picture, 
representing  the  Baptism  of  Jesus  Christ,  thought  he 
might  trust  Leonardo  to  assist  him  in  his  work,  and, 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  33 

reserving  the  principal  figures  for  himself,  left  the  head 
of  an  angel,  which,  if  it  should  be  inferior  to  the  rest 
of  the  composition,  would  not  be  noticed.  So  thought 
Verrochio ;  but  what  was  his  surprise,  when  the  con- 
noisseurs, to  whom  he  showed  his  work,  and  who  com- 
plimented him  upon  it,  expatiated  particularly  upon  the 
head  of  the  angel,  which,  according  to  their  ideas  was 
much  superior  to  anything  which  Andrea  had  hitherto 
done  !  Verrochio,  at  first  astonished,  was  afterwards  filled 
with  chagrin  at  seeing  himself  surpassed  by  a  very 
young  man ;  and,  unwilling  to  be  only  the  disciple  of 
his  pupil,  he  broke  his  pallet,  burned  his  pencils,  and 
swore  that  he  would  never  paint  again.  It  is  said  that 
he  faithfully  kept  his  oath. 

The  friends  of  Andrea  were  much  surprised  at  his 
resolution ;  but  it  was  easily  explained,  on  finding  that 
the  part  of  the  picture  on  which  they  had  bestowed  such 
high  encomiums,  had  been  painted  by  Leonardo  da 
Vinci.  The  young  artist  began  to  enjoy  a  certain  repu- 
tation as  soon  as  the  anecdote  became  known.  A 
Virgin,  which  he  afterwards  painted,  placed  him  in  the 
rank  of  the  first  painters  of  his  time,  and  his  name  was 
celebrated  throughout  Italy  before  he  had  attained  his 
twentieth  year. 

The  Seigniory  of  Florence,  wishing  to  offer  a  present 
of  a  set  of  hangings  in  silk  and  gold,  such  as  was  made 
in  Flanders,  desired  Leonardo  to  compose  the  cartoon 
3 


34  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

for  it,  and  this  cartoon,  representing  Adam  and  Eve  in 
the  garden  of  Eden,  was  found  magnificent. 

Although  busily  occupied  with  painting,  Da  Vinci  did 
not  neglect  the  other  arts;  he  composed  odes,  sonnets, 
and  songs,  and  set  them  to  music ;  and,  not  content 
with  the  musical  instruments  in  use,  he  invented  a  new 
one.  While  engaged  with  music  and  poetry,  he  plunged 
into  the  most  complicated  calculations,  or  pursued  the 
solution  of  a  problem,  before  which  the  most  skilful 
mathematicians  had  recoiled. 

Much  assiduity  to  labor  enabled  him  to  carry  on  these 
different  occupations ;  but  he  preferred  painting,  and 
that  he  might  succeed,  he  was  indefatigable  in  the  study 
of  nature.  Flowers,  animals,  landscapes,  and  the  phys- 
iognomy of  man,  above  all,  were  the  objects  of  his  at- 
tention. If  he  saw  a  person  with  a  characteristic  face, 
or  some  odd  attraction,  a  lame  beggar,  or  an  artisan 
in  merry  humor,  while  walking  through  the  streets  of 
Florence,  he  followed  him  long  enough  to  observe,  par- 
ticularly, what  had  appeared  extraordinary  in  the  indi- 
vidual, and  then,  returning  home,  he  drew  it  from 
memory. 

He  also  went  to  see  thieves  on  their  way  to  prison, 
and  condemned  people  going  to  punishment ;  then,  turn- 
ing from  these  pictures  of  affliction,  he  left  the  city,  and 
entered  into  conversation  with  the  shepherd,  the  laborer, 
and  the  brown  harvest  woman,  returning  home  after  her 
day's  toil.  He  often  invited  peasants  and  common  peo- 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  35 

pie  to  visit  him  ;  he  offered  them  drinks,  and  took  his 
place  among  them  ;  and  in  order  to  excite  their  mirth, 
he  related  jocose  stories,  and  when  he  saw  them  bursting 
with  laughter,  he  took  his  pencil  and  reproduced  the 
contortions  which  he  considered  most  striking. 

He  was  well  paid  for  the  pictures  that  he  painted, 
besides  receiving  more  orders  than  he  could  fill ;  so  that, 
at  an  age  when  young  people  are  hardly  capable  of  sup- 
porting themselves,  his  house  was  furnished  as  well  as 
that  of  the  richest  gentleman  in  Florence,  and  valets, 
pages,  and  horses  awaited  his  orders. 

His  wit,  his  elegant  manners,  his  taste  in  everything 
relating  to  dress,  introduced  him  into  the  best  society, 
by  whom  he  was  chosen  as  the  leader  of  fashion.  When 
a  noble  Florentine  desired  to  give  a  splendid  entertain- 
ment, he  never  failed  to  consult  the  brilliant  artist,  and 
Leonardo  always  invented  some  detail  which  gave  the 
charm  of  novelty  to  the  feast.  If  any  important  work 
was  undertaken  for  public  utility ;  if  it  was  a  question 
of  constructing  a  bridge,  digging  a  canal,  opening  a 
road,  or  building  an  edifice,  the  advice  of  Leonardo  was 
sought,  and  his  plans  were  sure  to  be  the  best. 

Thus  labor  and  pleasure  divided  the  time  of  Da  Yinci ; 
and  it  passed  so  rapidly,  that  he  had  attained  the  age 
of  forty  years,  without  having  found  leisure  to  travel 
through  the  rest  of  Italy,  as  he  had  intended  to  do  from 
the  commencement  of  his  career  as  an  artist,  However, 
he  resolved  to  break  in  upon  his  cherished  habits,  and 


36  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

bidding  adieu  to  his  dear  and  beautiful  Florence,  much 
saddened  by  his  departure,  he  went  to  Milan.  The 
Duke  Ludovico  Sforza  received  him  with  all  the  honors 
due  to  his  great  reputation,  and  forced  him  to  accept 
an  apartment  in  his  palace.  At  first,  he  went  from 
time  to  time  into  Leonardo's  studio,  to  see  him  paint ; 
afterwards,  fascinated  by  the  sprightly  and  interesting 
conversation  of  the  artist,  he  remained  there  whole  days. 

He  loved  Leonardo  as  much  as  he  admired  him,  and, 
being  passionately  fond  of  music,  he  resolved  to  con- 
voke an  assembly  of  all  the  amateurs  who  were  willing 
to  take  part  in  it.  Vinci  warmly  approved  the  project, 
and  asked  the  duke's  permission  to  dispute  the  palm 
with  the  musicians  who  should  answer  to  his  appeal. 
Ludovico,  who  had  not  yet  heard  Leonardo,  was  sur- 
prised at  such  a  request;  he  knew  that  the  painter 
understood  music,  but  he  did  not  believe  him  able  to 
compete  in  the  assembly. 

On  the  day  of  the  feast,  Leonardo  carried  an  unknown 
instrument,  which  he  had  invented  and  made.  It  was 
a  kind  of  lyre,  shaped  like  a  horse's  skull.  This  was 
examined  with  much  curiosity,  and  some  secretly  smiled 
at  it ;  but  when  Leonardo  touched  the  instrument,  their 
laughter  ceased  :  never  had  they  heard  a  softer  or  more 
sonorous  melody,  and  the  musicians  who  had  come  with 
the  hope  of  obtaining  the  prize,  declared  themselves 
vanquished.  His  triumph  was  crowned  by  the  improvi- 
sation of  some  couplets,  for  which  he  composed  the  music 


ARCHITECTS  AND  SCULPTORS.          37 

while  sitting  amid  the  frantic  applause  of  the  audience, 
to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  duke. 

o 

After  this  victory,  Leonardo  wished  to  leave  Milan, 
but  Ludovico,  by  entreaties  and  manifestations  of  the 
most  sincere  friendship,  succeeded  in  detaining  him. 
Magnificent  entertainments,  given  almost  every  evening 
by  the  duke,  afforded  the  illustrious  painter  ample  op- 
portunity to  exercise  his  double  talent  of  poet  and  musi- 
cian, and  there  was  not  to  be  found,  in  all  Italy,  a  man 
more  admired  than  Leonardo  da  Vinci. 

He  passed  whole  days  in  his  studio,  pursuing  his 
study  of  painting,  or  in  the  cabinet  of  the  prince,  who 
made  him  director  of  all  the  works  to  be  done  in  the 
state,  and  who  was  pleased  to  hear  him  treat  of  serious 
and  difficult  things,  with  the  same  facility  that  he  turned 
a  madrigal  or  composed  an  elegy. 

It  was  at  the  earnest  entreaty  of  the  Dominicans  to 
paint  a  picture  for  their  convent,  that  he  consented  to 
ornament  their  refectory  with  a  fresco,  representing  the 
Lord's  Supper.  This  magnificent  composition,  which 
has  been  so  often  reproduced  by  engraving,  is  every- 
where known,  and  regarded  as  the  masterpiece  of 
Leonardo  da  Yinci. 

The  painter  has  chosen  the  moment  in  which  Jesus 
Chri&t,  taking  his  last  repast  with  his  disciples,  addresses 
them  with  the  words,  "Verily,  I  say  unto  you,  one  of 
you  shall  betray  me."  Surprise,  grief,  and  indignation 
are  painted  upon  the  faces  of  the  disciples,  whose  eyes 


38  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

seem  to  interrogate  their  divine  Master  with  a  poignant 
curiosity,  and  the  wish  to  reassure  him,  by  the  protesta- 
tion of  an  unceasing  love  and  unchangeable  devotion. 
Each  face,  in  the  picture,  has  a  wonderful  expression, 
but  it  happened  to  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  as  to  Timauthes 
with  his  picture  of  Iphigenia:  after  having  given  the 
most  admirable  character  to  the  heads  of  the  eleven 
faithful  disciples,  fearing  that  he  could  not  make  that  of 
Jesus  Christ  sufficiently  beautiful,  noble,  and  divine,  he 
left  his  fresco  unfinished. 

The  prior  of  the  convent,  not  understanding  the 
scruple  of  the  artist,  who  was  waiting  for  the  inspira- 
tion to  complete  his  sublime  work,  or  who  did  not  care 
for  it,  was  so  anxious  to  see  the  completion  of  the  fresco, 
which  all  Milan  had  contemplated  with  enthusiastic  ad- 
miration, that  he  hurried  and  teased  Leonardo  to  finish 
it  quickly.  The  painter  excused  himself  from  so  doing  ; 
the  prior  redoubled  his  importunities,  and  even  went  so 
far  as  to  threaten  to  compel  him.  Then  Leonardo  set 
himself  to  work.  The  head  of  Judas,  as  well  as  that 
of  Christ,  remained  to  be  done,  and  he  began  with  the 
former,  making  it  the  portrait  of  the  abbe*,  and  giving 
it  the  most  hateful  and  false  expression  it  is  possible  to 
imagine.  As  to  the  head  of  Christ,  he  contented  him- 
self with  sketching  it,  leaving  to  the  imagination  of  the 
spectators  that  which  he  recognized  as  impossible  to  ex- 
press. It  is  difficult  to  say  what  is  most  to  be  admired 
in  this  large  composition, —  the  spirit,  the  nobleness,  the 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  39 

elegance  of  the  whole,  or  the  truth,  and  finish  of  the 
most  trifling  details. 

After  having  produced  this  chef-d'oeuvre  of  painting, 
Leonardo,  who  was  also  skilled  in  the  difficult  art  of 
sculpture,  undertook  the  gigantic  statue  of  Duke  Francis 
Sforza,  which  crowned  his  reputation.  It  was  impos- 
sible for  him  to  think  of  leaving  Milan,  Ludovico  could 
not  do  without  him ;  and  nothing  that  he  could  have 
asked  in  another  country  was  spared.  But  war  came 
to  set  the  illustrious  artist  at  liberty  :  Louis  XII.  drove 
out  Ludovico  Sforza,  and  Leonardo  had  the  pain  of 
seeing  the  French  archers  aim  at  his  beautiful  statue  of 
Duke  Francis  in  their  daily  exercises.  He  left  Milan, 
and  returned  to  Florence,  to  the  great  joy  of  his  fellow- 
countrymen,  who  had  sympathized  in  all  his  success. 

To  show  himself  worthy  of  the  reception  which  was 
given  him,  Leonardo  shut  himself  in  his  studio,  and 
some  weeks  after  his  return  to  Florence  placed  before 
the  public  a  cartoon,  representing  Christ,  the  Virgin, 
and  St.  Anne.  All  Florence  crowded  about  this  poetic 
picture,  and  Leonardo  was  proclaimed  the  first  painter 
in  the  world.  Soon  after  he  painted  the  picture  of 
Mona  Lisa,  wife  of  Francesco  del  Giocondo ;  and  this 
splendid  portrait,  so  well  known  as  the  Joconda,  added 
to  his  glory.  This  picture  is  in  the  Louvre  —  it  is  of 
extraordinary  loveliness,  and  of  exquisite  finish.  The 
painter  worked  at  it  four  years,  and  pronounced  it  still 
unfinished. 


40  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

The  grand  council  of  Florence  intrusted  him  with  the 
reconstruction  of  the  Council  Hall,  and,  when  the  build- 
ing was  finished,  they  begged  him  to  decorate  it  with 
some  pictures,  to  which  he  consented.  He  thought  he 
should  have  to  paint  many  frescoes  in  it,  not  dreaming 
that  there  was  an  artist  in  Italy  who  would  dare  to  enter 
into  competition  with  him ;  but  Pierre  Soderini,  the 
bearer  of  the  holy  standard,  who  possessed  some  of 
Michael  Angelo's  sculpture,  and  knew  him  to  be  very 
able  in  drawing,  proposed  to  the  young  man  to  take 
charge  of  the  sides  of  the  hall.  Michael  Angelo,  who 
loved  to  attempt  that  which  others  considered  impossi- 
ble, accepted  the  offer  of  Soderini. 

Each  of  these  two  artists  secretly  prepared  his  car- 
toons, and  then  submitted  them  to  the  judges  chosen  to 
examine  them.  They  found  those  of  Leonardo  superb, 
and  they  were  so.  The  artist  had  represented  the  defeat 
of  Nicolo  Piccinino  in  the  war  of  Pisa,  and  the  Floren- 
tines allowing  their  arms  to  be  chopped  off  rather  than 
deliver  up  the  standards  which  they  had  promised  to  de- 
fend. His  friends  had  already  pronounced  him  the  vic- 
tor, when,  at  the  sight  of  Michael  Angelo's  cartoons,  a 
murmur  of  astonishment  was  heard,  which  was  soon 
changed  into  enthusiastic  acclamations.  The  drawings 
of  Leonardo  remained  a  chef-d'oeuvre,  but  there  was 
something  so  sublime,  so  striking,  so  new,  that,  by  this 
attempt  of  the  young  sculptor,  Leonardo  found  himself 
equalled  if  not  surpassed.  What  the  examiners  and  the 


ARCHITECTS    AND    SCULPTORS.  41 

public  felt  could  not  be  concealed  from  him ;  but  if  he 
had  a  doubt  of  the  triumph  of  his  young  rival,  a  cruel 
word,  incautiously  spoken,  would  have  undeceived  him. 
One  of  the  members  of  the  grand  council  whispered  in 
the  ear  of  his  neighbor,  "Leonardo  is  growing  old." 

Leonardo  is  growing  old  !  The  illustrious  artist  could 
never  forget  this  judgment,  which  engraved  itself  in  the 
very  depths  of  his  heart.  He  found  no  consolation  in 
the  remembrance  of  all  his  past  glory.  He  doubted 
the  sincerity  of  the  homage  with  which  he  had  been  sur- 
rounded ;  he  doubted  the  friends  who  endeavored  to  en- 
courage and  calm  him  ;  he  doubted  everything,  even  his 
own  talent.  The  order,  given  by  the  council,  for  hav- 
ing the  cartoons  of  Leonardo,  as  well  as  those  of  Michael 
Angelo,  exposed,  as  the  best  models  which  could  be 
given  to  young  artists,  afforded  no  alleviation  to  his 
chagrin  ;  he  imagined  that  his  fellow-citizens,  habituated 
to  regard  him  as  an  eminent  painter,  dared  not  deprive 
him  of  an  honor  of  which  they  did  not  conscientiously 
consider  him  worthy. 

The  troubles  which  befell  Florence  prevented  the  two 
great  artists  from  executing  these  paintings,  and  Leo- 
nardo went  to  Rome,  where  he  painted  several  fine  pic- 
tures. But  he  did  not  remain  there  long.  He  visited 
some  of  the  other  cities  of  Italy,  and  Caesar  Borgia, 
having  invited  him  to  Pavia,  retained  him  there  by  ap- 
pointing him  general  engineer. 

War  drove  him  from  Pavia,  as  it  had  driven  him  from 


42  THE    PRINCES   OF   ART. 

Milan.  He  returned  to  his  country,  where  a  new  dis- 
appointment awaited  him.  Cardinal  de  Medici,  who  had 
become  Pope,  under  the  name  of  Leo  X.,  desired  to 
endow  Florence  with  a  beautiful  edifice  ;  and  forgetting, 
without  doubt,  that  Leonardo  da  Vinci  was  as  able  an 
architect  as  painter,  ordered  Michael  Angelo  to  come  to 
the  city,  to  construct  the  fagade  of  San  Lorenzo. 

Michael  Angelo  again  !  It  was,  then,  true,  Leonardo 
da  Vinci  was  old  ;  they  no  longer  dared  to  confide  any 
important  work  to  him.  Leo  X.,  the  enlightened  pon- 
tiff, the  intelligent  friend  of  arts,  shared  the  same  opin- 
ion as  the  members  of  the  council  of  Florence !  The 
artist,  who  had  stood  so  long  unrivalled,  became  dis- 
couraged :  he  set  aside  his  pallet,  abandoned  his  plans, 
neglected  his  chisel ;  even  music  had  no  power  to  divert 
him.  He  became  so  melancholy  that  his  life  was  hi 
danger,  when  Francis  I.,  who  had  seen  his  works,  and 
who  understood  his  grief,  invited  him  to  his  court. 

The  wars,  from  which  Florence  had  suffered,  had 
ruined  Leonardo  :  after  having  been  one  of  the  greatest 
of  artists,  and  one  of  the  most  brilliant  lords  of  the 
country,  he  was  reduced  to  a  position  of  mediocrity, 
which,  for  a  man  accustomed  to  every  luxurious  enjoy- 
ment, was  almost  misery.  He  gratefully  accepted  the 
invitation  of  the  king,  and  bade  adieu  forever  to  the 
beautiful  sky  under  which  he  was  born.  Francis  I. 
received  him  with  every  mark  of  joy  and  affection,  and 
the  court  imitated  the  monarch,  so  that  if  Leonardo 


ARCHITECTS  AND   SCULPTORS.  43 

could  have  forgotten  the  past,  he  would  have  been  hap- 
py in  France. 

He  commenced  several  pictures  for  the  king ;  but 
being  old,  and  suffering,  he  could  not  work  assiduously, 
and  had  not  the  time  necessary  for  their  completion. 
With  the  resignation  of  a  Christian,  he  prepared  himself 
for  the  end  which  he  saw  approaching.  Francis  I.  often 
came  to  see  him  during  his  illness.  Although  Leonardo 
thanked  him  for  his  attentions,  he  did  not  pride  himself 
upon  them,  because,  in  the  face  of  death,  he  appreciated 
what  men  so  much  esteem,  according  to  its  true  value. 
He  was  very  independent  in  his  conversations  with  the 
king,  whether  he  related  the  history  of  his  life,  or  passed 
judgment  on  his  own  works,  or  those  of  his  contempo- 
raries. Before  his  death,  he  asked  pardon  of  God  and 
of  men  for  not  having  made  better  use  of  the  genius 
which  he  had  received  from  on  high.  Perhaps  if  this 
great  man  had  been  able  to  conquer  his  inconstant  humor, 
he  would  have  made  greater  progress  in  art  than  those 
who  have  astonished  all  Italy. 

When  Leonardo  felt  that  his  strength  was  failing, 
and  that  his  life,  like  the  flame  of  a  candle,  was  about 
to  be  extinguished  for  want  of  aliment,  he  asked  for  the 
holy  sacrament. 

The  king,  being  informed  of  the  condition  of  the 
illustrious  old  man,  hurried  to  see  him  for  the  last  time. 
Leonardo  tried  to  rise  to  salute  Francis  I.,  who,  press- 
ing his  hand,  seated  himself  at  the  bedside.  The  sick 


44  THE   PEINCES   OF   ART. 

man  related  what  had  passed  to  the  king,  spoke  of  his 
confidence  in  God,  and  of  the  celestial  joy  which  filled 
his  soul.  A  convulsive  shudder,  the  precursor  of  death, 
seized  him  while  he  was  speaking.  Francis  rose,  and 
held  his  head,  to  relieve  him.  Leonardo  cast  a  look  of 
ineffable  gratitude  upon  the  king,  and  died  in  his  arms, 
at  the  age  of  seventy-five  years. 

This  great  man  was  sincerely  regretted  by  the  court 
of  France,  and  the  news  of  his  death  created  much  sen- 
sation in  Italy.  He  had  deceived  himself:  his  fellow- 
countrymen,  while  rendering  justice  to  the  genius  of 
Michael  Angelo,  knew  that  the  name  of  Leonardo  da 
Vinci  would  ever  be  one  of  the  most  glorious  of  Italy. 


MICHAEL    ANGELO    BUONARQTTL 

Michael  Angelo  was  born  the  6th  of  March,  1474, 
at  the  castle  of  Caprese,  in  the  territory  of  Arezzo. 
His  father,  Ludovico  Buonarotti,  then  governor  of 
Caprese  and  Chiusi,  descended  from  the  illustrious  family 
of  the  Counts  of  Canosa.  He  thanked  Heaven  for  giv- 
ing him  a  son,  who  should  sustain  the  honor  of  his 
name,  and  succeed  him  in  one  of  the  first  offices  of  his 
country.  It  is  said  that  Ludovico,  in  thinking  of  the 
future  welfare  of  his  son,  did  not  limit  his  wishes  simply 
to  the  position  which  had  satisfied  his  own  ambition. 
The  affection  and  pride  natural  to  parents  lead  them  to 


ARCHITECTS    AND   SCULPTORS.  45 

foresee  a  much  more  brilliant  career  for  their  children 
than  they  have  themselves  enjoyed. 

But  with  whatever  glory  Ludovico  ornamented  the 
brow  of  his  new-born  child,  of  whatever  fame  for  his 
family  he  dreamed,  as  he  sat  by  the  cradle  of  the  little 
one,  the  reality  was  to  far  surpass  his  hopes.  Only 
this  glory  and  this  fame  were  not  to  come  from  the  ex- 
pected source.  Who  would  know  anything  of  the  name 
of  Buonarotti  at  the  present  day  if  Michael  Angelo  had 
been  governor  or  chief  standard-bearer  ?  No  one  :  while 
encircled  by  the  aureola  of  genius,  his  name  will  be 
known  to  remotest  ages. 

Ludovico,  having  finished  the  term  of  his  magistracy, 
left  Caprese,  to  reside  at  his  possessions  in  Settignano, 
where  the  child  grew  free  as  air,  and  happily  passed 
his  first  years  in  the  midst  of  workmen  employed  in  work- 
ing the  stone  with  which  Settignano  abounded.  It 
seemed  to  Michael  Angelo  that  this  life  would  always 
last;  and  he  was  not  only  surprised,  but  disquieted, 
when  his  father  told  him  that  the  time  had  come  for  him 
to  commence  his  studies ;  and  he  almost  died  of  annoy- 
ance, when,  instead  of  liberty,  of  open  air,  of  the  sun, 
the  songs  of  the  birds,  the  noise  of  the  workmen's  tools, 
he  found  only  silence,  and  the  monotonous  lessons  of  a 
severe  master,  at  the.  house  of  Francesco  d'Urbano. 

He  begged  his  father  to .  permit  him  to  return  to  the 
pleasant  life  which  he  had  heretofore  led.  Ludovico 
replied  by  telling  him  of  the  grave  duties  with  which  he 


46  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

would  be  charged  at  a  future  day,  and  tried  to  inspire 
the  child  with  brilliant  hopes,  which  he  was  incapable 
of  understanding.  Michael  Angelo  bore  his  chain  with 
sadness.  However,  among  the  pupils  who  were  a  little 
older  than  himself  was  one  who  helped  him  to  be  pa- 
tient while  living  with  Francesco. 

This  comrade,  named  Granacci,  had  a  taste  for  draw- 
ing, and  passed  his  holidays  in  the  shop  of  Master 
Dominico  Ghirlandaio,  one  of  the  renowned  painters  of 
the  time.  The  reader  must  not  be  surprised  that  we 
use  the  word  shop  —  it  was  the  manner  of  designating 
the  studio  of  an  artist. 

Granacci,  having  found  that  his  young  companion 
much  preferred  a  pencil,  a  brush,  or  a  chisel,  to  books, 
promised  to  bring  him  drawings,  and  provide  him  with 
colors,  that  he  might  amuse  himself  with  them  from 
time  to  time.  He  kept  his  word ;  and  from  that  hour 
forth,  Michael  devoted  himself  to  the  long  hours  of 
study  and  labor,  to  which  he  was  obliged  to  submit, 
since  he  could  draw  and  paint  during  the  time  for 
recreation. 

One  day  Granacci  offered  to  take  Michael  Angelo  to 
Ghirlandaio's.  To  see  the  studio  of  a  painter  had  for 
a  long  time  been  one  of  his  most  ardent  wishes.  He 
gladly  accepted  the  offer,  and  followed  Granacci,  his 
heart  beating  with  an  unknown  emotion. 

tf  Master,"  said  Granacci,  "  this  is  my  comrade,  whom 
I  have  so  often  mentioned,  and  here  is  his  work." 


ARCHITECTS  AND  SCULPTORS.          47 

As  he  spoke,  he  presented  an  engraving,  illuminated 
with  extreme  care  by  Michael  Angelo,  who,  not  satis- 
fied with  the  simple  work  of  a  colorist,  had  added  to  or 
subtracted  from  the  work  of  the  engraver,  with  a  taste 
and  discernment  far  beyond  his  age.  He  was  not  twelve 
years  old. 

It  is  the  glory  of  Dominico  Ghirlandaio  to  have  been 
the  teacher  of  Michael  Angelo,  but  he  was  a  man  of 
talent.  He  perceived,  at  once,  that  the  boy  was  a 
genius.  After  having  examined  the  engraving  which 
Granacci  showed  him,  he  extended  his  hand  to  Michael 
Angelo,  and  said  to  his  pupils, — 

"Here,  gentlemen,  is  an  artist  who  will  surpass  you, 
and  all  those  who  call  themselves  painters  at  the  pres- 
ent day." 

At  this  prediction  all  eyes  were  turned  upon  Buona- 
rotti,  who  blushed  deeply,  and  almost  repented  that  he 
had  yielded  to  the  solicitations  of  his  comrade. 

"You  must  quit  your  other  studies,  my  child,"  said 
Ghirlandaio,  "and  become  my  pupil." 

That  was  precisely  what  Michael  Angelo  desired; 
but  Ludovico  Buonarotti  never  would  give  his  consent 
to  his  son's  leaving  the  college  for  the  shop  of  Ghirlan- 
daio, as  he  modestly  told  the  master,  who,  smiling  with 
the  thought  of  having  among  his  pupils  a  child  of  such 
hopeful  promise,  encouraged  him,  and  agreed  to  go  with 
him  to  his  father. 

Ludovico  learned,  with  more  chagrin  than  astonish- 


48  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

ment,  that  he  could  make  nothing  of  Michael  Angelo  but 
a  dauber  and  a  mason.  Little  affected  by  what  Ghir- 
landaio  told  him  of  the  glory  of  the  arts,  he  again  tried 
to  reason  with  his  son ;  but  seeing  that  his  efforts  were 
utterly  useless,  he  attempted  to  touch  his  pride. 

"  So,"  said  he,  "your  decision  is  made  ?  You  give  up 
the  career  which  I  intended  to  open  to  you  ?  You  wish 
to  be  a  painter?" 

"A  painter  and  a  sculptor;  yes,  my  father,"  replied 
the  child. 

"  And  you  wish  to  study  with  Master  Ghirlandaio  ?  £ 

"Yes,  my  father." 

"  Very  well !  Master  Ghirlandaio,  I  give  up  my  son 
to  you.  Hereafter  he  belongs  to  you,  as  an  apprentice, 
or  a  valet,  as  you  please :  you  will  keep  him  for  three 
years,  and  you  will  pay  me  the  sum  of  twenty-four 
florins  for  his  services." 

The  pride  of  Michael  Angelo  revolted  at  this  propo- 
sition :  heir  of  the  noble  family  of  Canosa,  he  could  not 
brook  the  idea  of  becoming  a  hired  servant  to  the  painter 
whom  he  wished  for  his  teacher.  But  if  he  refused  the 
conditions,  he  would  be  obliged  to  give  up  all  idea  of 
being  an  artist.  He  waited  in  silence  until  Master 
Ghirlandaio  should  accept  the  offer  of  his  father,  which 
he  did,  without  hesitation  ;  and,  the  bargain  concluded, 
he  followed  him,  forgetful  of  the  humiliation  imposed 
upon  him,  in  his  joy  at  recovering  his  liberty. 

As  the  apprentice  of  Dominico,  the  young  Buonarotti 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  49 

soon  surpassed  all  the  other  pupils,  and  the  master 
himself.  It  happened,  more  than  once,  that  he  cor- 
rected the  models  which  were  given  him  to  copy,  and 
Ghirlandaio  never  reproached  him  for  it :  he  was  a  con- 
scientious man,  and  recognized  superior  talent  in  the 
child,  of  which  he  was  so  far  from  being  jealous,  that 
he  was  proud  of  it. 

The  fellow-pupils  of  Michael  Angelo  did  not  share 
the  sentiments  of  Ghirlandaio.  This  uncommon  talent 
cast  them  into  the  shade,  and  his  proud  and  unsocial 
character  was  disagreeable  to  them.  They  took  pleas- 
ure in  humiliating  and  tormenting  him  under  all  cir- 
cumstances ;  and  the  disdain  with  which  Michael  Angelo 
revenged  himself  for  their  ill  treatment  exasperated 
them  still  more. 

From  railleries  and  annoyances,  they  proceeded  to 
blows  ;  and  Michael  Angelo,  who  was  only  thirteen  years 
old,  was  nearly  killed  by  a  certain  Torrigiani,  who,  with 
one  blow  of  his  fist,  broke  the  bone  and  cartilage  of  his 
nose.  But  if  the  superiority  of  Buonarotti  excited  the 
envy  of  his  enemies,  it  was  also  his  consolation.  He 
avoided  these  wicked  companions,  and  becoming  all  to 
himself,  charmed  his  isolation  by  labor. 

He  was  not  fourteen,  when,  after  having  copied  a 
small  picture  belonging  to  a  friend  of  his  master,  he 
conceived  the  idea  of  keeping  the  original  and  returning 
the  copy,  which  he  smoked  a  little,  to  give  the  varnish 
the  appearance  of  antiquity.  Neither  Dominico  nor 
4 


50  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

his  friend  perceived  the  substitution,  and  Michael  An- 
gelo  was  obliged  to  tell  them  of  it,  to  get  back  his 
picture. 

At  this  period  Lorenzo  di  Medici,  surnamed  the  Mag- 
nificent, an  enlightened  protector  of  art,  established  a 
museum  of  painting  and  of  sculpture  in  his  palace,  and 
in  the  gardens  of  St.  Mark,  at  Florence,  where  he  was 
at  great  expense  in  collecting  the  most  precious  works 
of  ancient  art. 

Dominico  Ghirlandaio  obtained  permission  for  his 
pupils  to  visit  and  copy  these  chefs-d'oeuvre,  and  Mi- 
chael Angelo  was  not  the  last  to  take  advantage  of  it. 
But  while  his  fellow-pupils  were  admiring  the  beautiful 
paintings  in  the  halls  of  the  palace,  he,  who  had  always 
preferred  sculpture  to  painting,  remained  in  the  garden, 
where  a  great  number  of  workmen  were  employed  in 
preparing  blocks  of  stone  and  marble,  which  skilful  ar- 
tists should  transform  into  statues,  and  where  were  the 
ancient  pieces  destined  to  serve  them  as  models. 

Some  of  the  workmen,  whom  he  had  known  at  Set- 
tignano,  authorized  him  to  make  use  of  a  block  of  mar- 
ble, and  gave  him  some  tools  :  he  chose  the  head  of  a 
fawn  among  the  models,  and  set  about  copying  it.  He 
returned  the  next  morning,  and  several  successive  days, 
almost  entirely  abandoning  Master  Ghirlandaio.  The 
head  of  his  model  had  been  so  much  injured  by  time, 
that  the  nose  and  mouth  were  almost  entirely  wanting. 
However,  this  difficulty  did  not  stop  Michael  Angelo : 


AKCHITECTS   AND  SCULPTORS.  51 

although  he  had  never  received  a  lesson,  he  finished  his 
fawn,  the  mouth  of  which  he  made  half  open,  as  in  a 
burst  of  laughter,  showing  the  tongue  and  all  the  teeth. 

This  done,  he  examined  it,  to  be  sure  that  he  had 
forgotten  nothing,  when  he  perceived  a  man  at  a  short 
distance  from  him,  who  appeared  to  be  contemplating 
his  fawn  with  great  attention. 

"  So  !  so  ! "  said  Michael  Angelo  to  himself,  without 
noticing  the  observer,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  I  have  made 
out  pretty  well." 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  make  an  observation  ? "  said 
the  stranger. 

"  Certainly,  if  it  is  just,"  answered  Buonarotti. 

"  You  shall  judge  of  it." 

«  Speak  then." 

"Your  fawn  is  old,  is  it  not?" 

"That  is  easily  seen." 

"  Not  so  easily  as  you  think.  The  forehead  is  old, 
but  the  mouth  is  young.  As  for  me,  I  have  never  met 
an  old  man  who  had  all  his  teeth." 

The  criticism  was  just.  Buonarotti  broke  two  of  his 
fawn's  teeth,  and  hollowed  the  gum  a  little,  before  leav- 
ing the  garden,  in  his  turn.  However,  he  did  not  wish 
to  take  away  his  work,  thinking  that  perhaps  he  should 
find  something  to  retouch  in  the  morning. 

But  the  next  morning  his  fawn  had  disappeared ! 
Michael  Angelo  vainly  sought  for  it  on  all  sides,  and 
finally,  perceiving  the  man  who  had  spoken  to  him  the 


52  THE   PEINCES   OF   AKT. 

evening  before,  and  supposing  that  he  might  have  taken 
it  away,  he  went  to  him,  and  asked  him  if  he  knew 
where  it  was. 

"I  do  know,"  answered  the  unknown,  "and  if  you 
will  follow  me,  I  will  show  it  to  you." 

"  And  you  will  give  it  back  to  me  ?  " 

"No,  I  wish  to  keep  it." 

"  And  by  what  right  ?  let  me  ask.  I  made  it ;  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  ought  to  have  it." 

"  Never  mind  ;  do  not  be  angry.  If  you  absolutely 
desire  it,  I  will  return  it/'  said  the  amateur,  smiling. 

Michael  Angelo,  reassured  by  this  promise,  followed 
him  into  the  interior  of  the  palace,  and  even  into  the 
apartments  of  the  duke,  where  he  saw  his  fawn. 

"O,  give  me  back  this  rough  sketch  quickly,"  cried 
he ;  w  the  prince  would  be  angry  if  he  saw  it  among  so 
many  masterpieces.  But  who  are  you,  sir,  that  you 
allow  yourself  such  jokes  ?  " 

"  Who  am  I ? "  replied  the  prince,  for  it  was  he  ;  "I 
am  your  protector  and  your  friend.  Henceforth  you 
shall  dwell  in  my  palace,  you  shall  eat  at  my  table,  and 
be  treated  as  one  of  my  sons  ;  because  you  cannot  fail  to 
become  a  great  artist,  Michael  Angelo  Buonarotti.*' 

Michael  Angelo,  filled  with  joy,  ran  to  announce  this 
news  to  his  father.  Ludovico  had  refused  to  see  his 
son  since  the  day  he  entered  the  house  of  Ghirlandaio ; 
but  now,  the  young  man,  proud  of  the  reception  the 
prince  had  given  him,  forced  his  way  past  the  sentinel, 


ARCHITECTS   AND    SCULPTORS.  53 

and  into  his  father's  cabinet.  He  threw  himself  on  his 
knees  to  relate  what  had  happened,  and  obtain  pardon. 

Ludovico  could  hardly  trust  his  senses  ;  but  Michael 
Angclo  led  him  to  the  palace,  where  Lorenzo  the  Mag- 
nificent was  waiting  for  them.  The  prince  repeated  to 
the  father  what  he  had  said  to  the  son,  and  offered  him 
whatever  place  he  might  choose,  as  a  proof  of  the  inter- 
est he  took  in  Michael  Angelo. 

Ludovico  was  too  joyful  to  be  ambitious :  he  asked 
only  a  place  in  the  custom-house,  which  Lorenzo  grant- 
ed, saying,  — 

"You  will  always  be  poor,  Signor  Buonarotti ;  you 
are  too  modest." 

"  I  do  not  wish  for  a  place  that  I  cannot  fill  worthily," 
replied  Ludovico ;  and  besides,  I  shall  always  be  suf- 
ficiently exalted  for  the  father  of  a  mason." 

Notwithstanding  the  glorious  future  predicted  to 
Michael  Angelo,  Ludovico  still  regretted  that  he  had 
not  wished  to  be  a  magistrate. 

Lorenzo  the  Magnificent  did  all  he  had  promised,  and 
the  talent  of  young  Buonarotti  made  immense  progress 
under  his  kind  protection.  But  scarcely  had  he  time  to 
finish  two  or  three  statues,  when  the  death  of  Lorenzo 
crushed  his  hopes. 

Piero  di  Medici  neither  inherited  the  taste  of  his  father 
for  the  arts,  nor  his  affection  for  Michael  Angelo,  who 
left  the  palace,  and  retired  to  the  convent  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  The  prior,  in  admiration  of  his  talents,  had  of- 


54  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

fered  him  accommodations,  where  he  could  devote  him- 
self to  the  study  of  anatomy,  —  a  study  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  the  sculptor.  Michael  Angelo  gratefully  ac- 
cepted the  offer.  He  studied  the  muscles,  fibres,  and 
frames  of  the  dead  bodies  placed  at  his  disposition,  with 
such  extreme  care,  that  in  a  short  time  they  were  no 
longer  secrets  to  him.  As  a  manifestation  of  his  grat- 
itude to  the  prior,  he  offered  him  the  first  fruit  of  his 
new  studies,  —  a  Christ,  in  wood. 

One  day,  Piero  di  Medici,  remembering  the  young 
sculptor,  whom  he  had  seen  at  his  father's  table,  sent  for 
him.  He  had  an  order  to  give  him,  an  order  worthy 
of  such  a  prince.  A  thick  snow  covered  the  earth ; 
Piero  had  it  heaped  up  by  workmen,  and  then  directed 
Michael  Angelo  to  make  a  colossal  statue  of  it.  The 
artist  obeyed,  regretting  more  than  ever  his  noble  and 
generous  protector,  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent. 

Florence  was  soon  freed  from  the  government  of  Piero, 
who  possessed  no  one  of  the  qualities  so  much  admired  in 
his  father,  to  balance  his  faults.  A  revolution  took 
place  in  1494,  and  Piero  was  driven  from  the  territory 
of  the  republic. 

The  respect  which  Michael  Angelo  owed  to  the  mem- 
ory of  Lorenzo  prevented  him  from  declaring  against 
Piero ;  he  therefore  quitted  Florence  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  troubles.  He  went  to  Venice,  where  he 
was  not  known.  Finding  no  employment,  and  his 
means  failing,  he  next  went  to  Bologna. 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  55 

There  he  was  arrested,  because  he  went  through  the 
streets  without  wearing  red  wax  on  his  thumb  nail,  in 
compliance  with  a  singular  order  imposed  upon  stran- 
gers, of  which  he  was  ignorant.  It  was  impossible  for 
him  to  pay  the  fine  to  which  he  was  condemned,  and  he 
would,  without  doubt,  have  languished  in  prison,  if  a 
gentleman,  by  the  name  of  Aldobrandi,  had  not  inter- 
posed, and  taken  him  to  his  home. 

By  the  mediation  of  this  gentleman  he  obtained 
employment,  and  acquitted  himself  so  well,  that  a  Bo- 
lognese  sculptor,  furious  with  jealousy  at  the  sight  of 
such  masterly  work,  threatened  to  stab  him. 

As  soon  as  peace  was  established,  Michael  Angelo 
returned  to  his  own  country,  and  made  his  celebrated 
statue  of  Love.  Some  say  that  when  the  Love  was 
finished,  Michael  Angelo  broke  one  of  its  arms,  and 
caused  it  to  be  sold  as  an  antique  ;  others  think  that  the 
sculptor  would  not  have  mutilated  his  own  work,  but 
that  the  dealer,  who  paid  but  thirty  crowns  for  it,  prac- 
tised the  trick,  by  means  of  which  he  resold  it  for  two 
hundred  ducats.  However  it  may  be,  the  statue,  by 
Michael  Angelo,  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  finest  works 
of  antiquity,  until,  the  arm  being  found,  the  deception 
was  discovered. 

The  Cardinal  de  St.  George  invited  Michael  Angelo 
to  come  to  Kome,  and  gave  him  a  lodging  in  his  palace. 
The  reputation  of  the  young  artist  had  preceded  him,  and 
he  was  soon  fully  occupied. 


50  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

The  statue  of  Bacchus,  which  is  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  in  the  gallery  at  Florence,  was  his  first  work. 

The  Bacchus  was  very  much  admired,  but  when  the 
group  della  Pietd  appeared,  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
Romans  knew  no  bounds.  The  grief  of  Mary,  receiv- 
ing her  crucified  Son  in  her  arms,  had  never  been  more 
touchingly  expressed ;  the  dead  Christ  had  never  been 
more  truthfully  and  more  beautifully  represented ;  and 
no  one  had  ever  attained  the  sublime  expression  and  the 
marvellous  finish  which  are  admired  in  the  Descent  from 
the  Cross  of  Michael  Angelo. 

However,  there  are  some  critics  who  reproach  the 
sculptor  for  having  made  the  Mother  as  young  as  the 
Son ;  but  what  is  there,  however  perfect,  that  has  not 
been  criticised  ? 

The  magnificent  group  della  Pietd,  so  pure  in  design, 
so  perfect  in  grace,  so  marvellous  in  finish,  that  artists 
despair  of  equalling  it,  made  for  the  Cardinal  de  Villiers, 
ambassador  of  Charles  VIII.  to  Pope  Alexander  VI.,  is 
to  be  seen  at  St.  Peter's,  in  Rome. 

After  the  war,  Michael  Angelo  yielded  to  the  solicita- 
tions of  his  friends,  and  returned  to  Florence.  Piero 
Soderini  engaged  him  to  make  a  colossal  statue  of 
David.  The  sculptor  displayed  the  same  talent  and 
genius  as  heretofore,  in  the  production  of  a  David, 
which  drew  forth  bursts  of  applause  from  an  admiring 
public.  Soderini  could  hardly  contain  himself  for  pride 
and  joy,  for  he  thought,  poor  standard-bearer,  that  if 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  57 

this  gigantic  statue  was  faultless,  the  artist  owed  it  to 
him,  Piero  Soderini.  It  happened  that  Soderini,  being 
admitted  the  first  to  see  the  new  chef-d'oeuvre,  deigned 
to  show  himself  satisfied ;  he  dared,  however,  to  venture 
an  observation  —  the  nose  of  David  appeared  to  him 
too  large. 

Michael  Angelo,  of  whose  impetuous  temper  we  have 
already  spoken,  impatiently  heard  his  unjust  criticism  ; 
he  was  on  the  point  of  railing  at  him  for  his  ignorance, 
but,  calming  himself,  he  applauded  the  remark  of  his 
visitor,  and  throwing  a  handful  of  marble  dust  on  the 
nose,  he  pretended  to  give  it  two  or  three  strokes  of  the 
chisel ;  and  wiping  off  the  dust,  he  turned  to  Soderini, 
who  congratulated  him,  as,  in  his  opinion,  nothing  more 
was  wanting. 

Leonardo  da  Vinci,  who  was  then  known  as  the  first 
painter  of  Italy,  and  of  the  world,  had  been  engaged  to 
fresco  a  part  of  the  Council  Hall.  Soderini  proposed  to 
Michael  Angelo  to  take  charge  of  the  other  part,  which 
he  accepted. 

Leonardo  chose  for  his  subject  the  defeat  of  Piccinino, 
general  of  the  Duke  of  Milan,  and  the  heroic  valor  of  the 
old  soldiers,  who  allowed  their  wrists  to  be  cut  off, 
rather  than  surrender  the  standards,  which  they  wished 
to  carry  to  Florence.  Michael  Angelo  was  to  paint  an 
episode  of  the  war  of  Pisa.  But  for  this  artist,  whose 
knowledge  of  anatomy  surpassed  that  of  all  other  paint- 
ers, to  be  condemned  to  represent  soldiers  encased  in 


58  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

heavy  armor,  was  to  yield  the  palm  which  he  wished 
to  contest ;  but  his  genius  helped  him  to  overcome  this 
difficulty. 

He  took  for  his  subject  a  circumstance  which  he  re- 
membered in  the  history  of  the  war  of  Pisa.  The 
Florentine  soldiers,  overcome  with  heat,  were  bathing  in 
the  Arno,  without  foreseeing  an  attack,  when  cries  of 
alarm  resounded,  the  Pisans  were  coming.  Michael 
Angelo  put  so  much  purity,  strength,  and  expression 
in  his  drawing  of  the  army,  thus  surprised,  that  the  day 
on  which  he  presented  his  cartoons  to  the  judges  to  be 
examined  was  for  him  a  day  of  triumph.  Florence  ex- 
tolled the  new  star  which  shone  in  its  heaven,  and  began 
to  feel  more  proud  of  Michael  Angelo  than  of  its  great 
painter,  Leonardo  da  Vinci. 

The  cartoons  of  the  two  illustrious  artists  remained 
exposed  for  the  admiration  of  the  curious,  and  for  the 
study  of  young  artists ;  neither  Michael  Angelo  nor 
Leonardo  being  able  at  that  time  to  execute  the  frescoes 
of  which  they  had  made  the  designs. 

All  the  painters  in  Italy  wished  to  see  these  wonderful 
drawings  ;  and  although  Leonardo's  cartoons  were  of  ex- 
ceeding beauty,  those  of  Michael  Angelo,  whose  name 
was,  as  yet,  partially  unknown,  caused  a  much  more 
lively  sensation.  He  was  unanimously  proclaimed  the 
master  of  art,  and  the  most  brilliant  reputation  faded 
before  his. 

But  Michael  Angelo  had  enemies,  who,  favored  by 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  59 

the  troubles  which  agitated  the  last  days  of  the  Floren- 
tine republic,  destroyed  his  cartoons.  The  public  voice 
accused  the  sculptor  Baccio  Bandinelli  of  the  crime. 

Baccio  Bandinelli  had  talent,  but  he  could  not  com- 
pete with  the  inimitable  Michael  Angelo.  Instead  of 
accepting  the  second  place,  he  suffered  himself  to  be  led 
away  by  jealousy  and  hatred,  and  to  use  every  means 
in  his  power  to  impede  the  career  of  artists  superior  to 
himself,  particularly  that  of  Michael  Angelo. 

No  sooner  was  Pope  Julius  II.  seated  upon  the  pon- 
tifical throne,  than  he  sent  for  the  great  artist,  whom  he 
received  with  every  demonstration  of  honor,  and  ordered 
him  to  make  a  statue. 

"  Try,"  said  he,  "  to  make  this  work  worthy  of  Julius 
II.  and  of  Michael  Angelo." 

A  compliment  thus  framed  was  very  flattering  to 
Buonarotti :  he  answered  it  by  making  a  colossal  statue, 
which  held  a  sword  in  one  hand,  while  it  blessed  the 
world  with  the  other.  Michael  Angelo  designed  to 
place  a  book  in  the  hand,  but  Julius,  who  was  more 
warlike  than  religious,  decided  to  have  a  sword.  This 
statue  was  cast  in  bronze,  and  placed  upon  the  portal  of 
St.  Petrone,  where  it  remained  until  1511,  when  it  was 
broken  by  a  mob. 

Julius  II.  was  so  much  pleased  with  this  first  work  of 
Michael  Angelo,  that  he  resolved  to  employ  him  on 
something  great,  which  should  transmit  the  name  of  the 
Pope  and  the  artist  to  posterity.  He  therefore  ordered 


60  THE   PRINCES  OF  ART. 

him  to  make  a  monument  for  his  tomb,  and  thinking  it 
unnecessary  to  give  him  any  instructions  about  it,  left 
him  to  follow  his  own  plans. 

Michael  Angelo  projected  a  gigantic  monument,  which 
should  be  ornamented  with  forty  statues,  and  magnifi- 
cent basso-relievos.  Julius  II.  was  delighted  with  the 
idea,  and  desired  the  sculptor  to  set  about  his  work 
immediately. 

Michael  Angelo,  filled  with  joy  at  finding  himself 
understood  and  appreciated,  set  out  for  Carrara.  He 
wished  to  select  the  marble  himself,  as  nothing  could  be 
too  beautiful  for  this  incomparable  mausoleum.  Thanks 
to  the  great  number  of  workmen  he  employed,  thanks 
to  the  ardor  which  his  presence  inspired,  the  work  was 
accomplished  in  a  very  short  time ;  and  the  marble  hav- 
ing arrived  at  Rome,  Michael  Angelo  thought  only  of 
realizing  the  sublime  conceptions  of  his  genius. 

Julius  II.  had  told  the  sculptor  to  address  himself 
immediately  to  him  when  he  was  in  need  of  money, 
and  had  ordered  the  doors  of  the  Vatican  to  be  always 
open  to  him.  When  Michael  Angelo  returned  from 
Carrara,  he  wished  to  see  the  Pope,  to  obtain  money  to 
pay  the  people  whom  he  had  employed.  To  his  great 
surprise  he  was  refused  entrance  to  the  palace.  His 
enemies  had  been  working  against  him  in  his  absence, 
and  the  Pope  had  forbidden  that  he  should  be  admitted. 
Michael  Angelo,  knowing  his  own  worth,  was  indignant 
at  such  an  affront,  and  said  to  his  informant, — 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  61 

"  Should  his  holiness  need  me,  and  ask  for  me,  tell 
him  that  I  am  no  longer  an  inhabitant  of  Rome  ! " 

Two  hours  after  he  was  on  his  way  to  Florence.  No 
sooner  had  the  Pope  heard  of  his  departure,  than,  feel- 
ing what  he  had  lost  by  listening  to  calumniators,  he 
sent  five  couriers,  one  after  another,  to  recall  the  fu- 
gitive. But  Michael  Angelo  refused  to  listen  to  them. 
Julius  ordered  them  to  bring  him  back,  whether  he 
would  or  not :  he  resisted  more  than  ever,  and  threat- 
ened to  kill  the  first  one  who  dared  approach  him.  He 
was  so  resolute  in  his  threats  that  the  cavaliers  turned 
back. 

Michael  Angelo  was  received  with  open  arms  by  the 
standard-bearer  of  Florence,  who  knew  nothing  of  the 
cause  of  his  prompt  return.  But  the  next  day  Soderini 
chano-ed  his  tune :  he  had  received  a  letter  from  the 

o 

Pope,  in  which  his  holiness  threatened  to  ruin  Florence, 
and  excommunicate  him,  if  he  did  not  force  Michael 
Angelo  to  return  to  Rome. 

Julius  II.,  prompt  in  keeping  his  word,  advanced 
towards  Florence  at  the  head  of  an  army,  taking  Bo- 
logna on  his  way.  Hearing  this,  Soderini  called  Mi- 
chael Angelo,  telling  him  that  if  he  did  not  wish  the  de- 
struction of  his  fellow-citizens,  to  leave  Florence  quick- 
ly, and  go  as  far  as  possible,  to  avoid  the  anger  of 
the  Pope. 

Michael  Angelo  followed  the  first  of  these  counsels, 
which  might  pass  for  an  order ;  but  he  thought  not  of 


62  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

fleeing  for  a  moment ;  on  the  contrary,  he  took  the 
road  to  Bologna,  and  resolutely  went  to  Julius  II. 
This  boldness  pleased  the  Pope,  whose  anger  suddenly 
ceased :  he  extended  his  hand  to  the  sculptor,  ordered 
him  for  the  second  time  to  make  his  statue,  and  wished 
him  to  hurry,  that  he  might  not  delay  with  the  tomb. 

Jealous  people  again  tried  to  bring  Michael  Angelo 
into  discredit,  but  they  could  not  succeed  :  Julius  knew 
him,  and  was  not  to  be  prejudiced  against  him.  How- 
ever, there  are  more  means  than  one  of  injuring  an  ar- 
tist ;  and  when  Michael  Angelo's  enemies  saw  that  what 
they  said  had  little  influence  upon  the  Pope,  they  adopt- 
ed another  plan.  Their  object  was  to  prevent  the 
great  sculptor  from  immortalizing  himself  by  the  con- 
struction of  the  tomb  of  Julius  II.,  and  they  conceived 
the  idea  of  boasting  of  Buonarotti's  talent  for  painting, 
so  as  to  inspire  the  Pope  with  the  desire  of  having  some 
pictures  by  Michael  Angelo,  and  thus  cause  him  to 
postpone  the  execution  of  the  Mausoleum. 

They  did  not  fail  in  their  calculations.  "\Vhen  the 
statue  of  Julius  II.  was  completed,  Michael  Angelo  re- 
turned to  Rome,  impatient  to  undertake  the  great  work 
of  which  he  had  thought  so  much.  The  Pope  received 
him  in  the  most  friendly  manner ;  but  when  Michael 
Angelo  wished  to  take  his  orders  for  the  work  which  he 
was  to  commence,  Julius  II.  said  that  he  had  chosen  him 
to  decorate  the  arched  roof  of  the  Sistine  Chapel. 

Michael  Angelo  imagined  that  he  had  misunderstood, 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  63 

but  the  pontiff  expressed  his  wish  more  strongly  :  he  did 
not  care  about  sculpture,  he  wished  some  of  his  paint- 
ings. Buonarotti  endeavored  to  resist,  declaring,  as 
was  the  truth,  that  he  had  made  cartoons  for  the  Council 
Chamber  of  Florence,  but  that  he  had  never  painted ; 
and  that  he  thought  he  was  getting  too  old  to  commence 
his  apprenticeship  as  a  painter.  At  length  he  besought 
Julius  to  revoke  his  order ;  but  all  that  he  said  only  aug- 
mented the  desire  of  the  Pope  to  see  his  sculptor  as  a 
painter ;  and  the  artist,  understanding  that  his  will  was 
unchangeable,  resolved  to  obey. 

The  architect  Bramante  had  taken  the  chief  part  in 
this  plot,  formed  against  Michael  Angelo,  to  turn  Julius 
II.  from  the  idea  of  raising  his  own  Mausoleum.  Bra- 
mante d'Urbin,  the  uncle  of  Raphael  Sanzio,  feared  the 
influence  that  Buonarotti  exercised  over  the  Pope  might 
injure  a  young  artist  who  had  just  come  to  Rome.  He 
knew  little  of  the  character  of  Michael  Angelo,  who 
could  suppose  him  capable  of  depreciating  the  merits  of 
an  artist  like  Raphael :  Michael  Angelo  was  too  sure 
of  his  own  talent  to  be  jealous  of  that  of  others.  Julius 
II.  showed  him  the  paintings  of  the  young  Sanzio,  he 
frankly  praised  their  beauty,  and  predicted  a  happy 
future  to  him  who  was  the  author  of  them ;  but  Bra- 
mante, anxious  to  see  Buonarotti  in  the  second  rank, 
succeeded  in  bringing  him  into  competition  with  Raphael. 

Whatever  it  might  cost  Michael  Angelo  to  put  off  to 
a  future  time  the  execution  of  the  poem  in  marble,  for 


64  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

which  all  the  personages,  created  in  his  imagination, 
awaited  only  to  be  brought  forth  under  his  chisel,  he 
had  too  much  strength  of  character  to  allow  himself  to 
be  cast  down.  He  shut  himself  up  in  the  Sistine  Chapel, 
and  declared  that  no  one  should  see  his  pictures  until 
they  were  finished.  He  sent  to  Florence  for  some  of 
his  friends,  who  were  artists,  among  others  Granacci, 
his  old  college  and  studio  friend,  and  begged  them  to 
let  him  see  them  paint  in  fresco,  because  he  was  entire- 
ly ignorant  of  this  style  of  painting,  or  of  the  prepara- 
tion of  the  plaster  necessary  for  it. 

When  he  had  satisfied  himself,  he  dismissed  his 
friends,  and  destroyed  all  that  they  had  done.  He  re- 
mained alone  in  the  chapel,  refusing  any  assistance 
whatever,  even  in  preparing  the  lime,  mixing  colors,  &c. 

One  can  hardly  conceive  of  his  courage  and  patience 
in  surmounting  all  difficulties,  transcribing  and  produ- 
cing in  painting  the  sublime  thoughts  which  he  had, 
until  then,  brought  out  in  marble.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  impatient  pontiff  tormented  him,  by  continually 
urging  haste.  Notwithstanding  Michael  Angelo  never 
lost  a  minute,  he  promised  to  be  still  more  industrious ; 
but  Julius  II.  would  not  wait  until  the  artist  was  ready 
to  have  his  work  exposed  to  public  view,  but  ordered 
the  scaffolding  to  be  taken  down  before  the  ceiling  was 
half  finished. 

All  Rome  wished  to  see  the  painting  of  Michael  An- 
gelo. The  crowd  was  most  enthusiastic  in  its  bursts  of 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  65 

applause,  and   Julius   II.   embraced   the  painter,   say- 
ing,— 

"I  knew  very  well  that  the  envy  of  your  enemies 
would  prepare  a  new  triumph  for  you." 

Michael  Angelo  resumed  his  labor,  and  in  twenty 
months  had  finished  the  frescoes,  whose  beauty  strikes 
those  who  visit  the  Sistine  Chapel  with  astonishment 
and  admiration.  It  is  said  that  the  artist,  having  been 
obliged  to  look  up  so  much  while  painting,  could  never 
afterwards  look  down  without  pain. 

By  his  wish,  the  architect  San  Gallo,  one  of  his  en- 
emies, estimated  the  price  of  his  work ;  and  he  received 
fifteen  thousand  ducats. 

But  Michael  Angelo  aspired  to  another  recompense  — 
permission  to  commence  the  Mausoleum  of  Julius  II. 
without  delay,  which  was  granted  him.  The  Pope, 
who  fully  appreciated  the  genius  of  this  great  man, 
honored  him  with  sincere  friendship,  which,  however, 
did  not  prevent  him  from  being,  at  times,  extremely 
rough.  It  is  said  that  one  day,  Michael  Angelo  having 
dared  to  sustain  a  different  opinion  from  that  of  Julius 
upon  a  question  of  art,  he  raised  the  cane,  upon  which 
he  supported  his  tottering  steps,  to  strike  him.  Michael 
Angelo,  who  would  not  have  tolerated  such  violence 
from  any  person  whatever,  remained  calm  before  his 
protector  and  friend.  Julius,  ashamed  of  having  suf- 
fered himself  to  be  carried  away  by  anger,  asked  par- 
don of  Buonarotti. 
5 


66  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

The  most  perfect  harmony  existed  between  these  two 
great  men,  both  of  them  proud  and  imperious  :  the  one 
conscious  of  his  power,  the  other  of  his  genius.  The 
Mausoleum  was  commenced,  and  the  Pope,  old  and 
suffering  as  he  was,  went  from  time  to  time  to  see  his 
sculptor  working  upon  the  marble,  under  which  he  was 
to  repose.  One  day  Michael  Angelo  waited  for  him. 
He  came  not :  he  was  dead  ! 

His  favorite  artist  wept  bitterly,  and  never  forgot  him. 
Wishing  to  show  a  last  testimony  of  gratitude,  he  re- 
doubled his  zeal,  that  the  tomb,  which  he  had  been 
forced  to  leave  so  many  times,  might  be  finished,  to  re- 
ceive the  noble  ashes  which  it  was  destined  to  cover. 
But  the  new  pontiff,  Leo  X. ,  wishing  to  endow  his  na- 
tive country,  Florence,  with  remarkable  monuments, 
ordered  the  sculptor  to  that  city,  to  construct  .the  facade 
of  the  Library  of  San  Lorenzo. 

Michael  Angelo  was  then  forty  years  of  age,  and  had 
never  attended  to  architecture ;  but  he  knew  that  he 
must  obey;  and,  bidding  adieu  to  his  beautiful  models, 
he  set  out  for  Florence. 

He  was  deprived  of  the  glory  of  finishing  this  work 
also,  and  ordered  to  Carrara,  to  select  marble  for  some 
statues  which  he  was  commanded  to  make. 

During  his  sojourn  in  Florence  envy  recommenced 
its  work ;  and  as  it  would  have  been  as  easy  to  deny 
the  existence  of  the  sun  as  the  genius  of  Michael  An- 
gelo, they  attacked  his  probity.  Leo  X.,  although  of 


ARCHITECTS  AND  SCULPTORS.          67 

eminent  mind  and  generous  heart,  listened  an  instant 
to  this  calumny,  and  ordered  the  sculptor  to  leave 
Carrara,  and  procure  the  blocks  which  he  needed  from 
Tuscany. 

Buonarotti  opened  new  quarries,  and  made  roads  to 
take  the  marble  to  the  sea  ;  then  he  returned  to  Florence  ; 
but  Leo  X.  had  given  up  the  idea  of  finishing  San 
Lorenzo,  and  Michael  Angelo,  discovering  in  the  Pope's 
conduct  towards  him  the  work  of  base  jealousy,  which 
had  for  a  long  time  pursued  him,  resolved  that  he  would 
never  reappear  at  the  court  of  Rome. 

Adrian  VI.,  who  succeeded  Leo  X.,  did  not  protect 
Michael  Angelo,  any  more  than  his  predecessor  had 
done.  But  his  reign  was  of  short  duration,  and  the 
Cardinal  di  Medici,  called  to  the  pontifical  throne, 
under  the  name  of  Clement  VII.,  honored  him  with  his 
protection,  and  sustained  him  against  the  heirs  of  Julius 
II.,  among  whom  was  the  Duke  d'Urbin,  who  threat- 
ened to  stab  the  artist,  if  he  did  not  immediately  com- 
mence working  on  the  Mausoleum.  Michael  Angelo, 
little  frightened  by  the  threat,  returned  to  Florence, 
which  was  at  the  time  a  prey  to  new  troubles.  A  pop- 
ular faction  had  driven  away  the  Medici. 

Michael  Angelo,  who  had  little  cause  to  be  pleased 
with  the  nobles,  and  whose  generous  instincts  carried 
him  irresistibly  towards  the  poor  and  oppressed,  re- 
mained neutral  as  long  as  strangers  did  not  threaten  his 
country ;  but  when  undisciplined  hordes,  from  all  parts 


68  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

of  Europe,  were  directed  against  Florence,  at  the  insti- 
gation of  the  Medici,  Michael  Angelo,  already  sculptor, 
painter,  and  architect,  became  an  engineer. 

As  commissary  general  of  the*  fortifications  of  Flor- 
ence, he,  with  twelve  thousand  combatants,  defended 
the  city,  during  eleven  months,  against  an  army  of  thir- 
ty-five thousand  men.  Michael  Angelo  roused  the  cour- 
age of  the  people,  with  as  much  success  as  he  repaired 
the  breaches  made  in  the  walls  by  the  enemies'  cannon. 
During  these  eleven  months  he  performed  prodigies  of 
audacity  and  valor,  and  he  alone  gave  the  Medici  more 
trouble  than  all  the  city  put  together.  But  there  were 
traitors  in  the  bosom  of  the  city  ;  the  gates  were  opened 
to  the  besiegers,  and  Michael  Angelo  concealed  him- 
self from  their  vengeance  by  leaving  the  territory  of 
Florence. 

Alexander  di  Medici,  gonfalonier,  ordered  that  no 
means  should  be  spared  to  find  out  where  Buonarotti 
had  concealed  himself,  and  his  retreat  was  soon  dis- 
covered. He  was  arrested,  and  taken  to  Florence. 
Michael  Angelo  appeared  before  the  duke,  and  with 
head  erect,  fearlessly  acknowledged  the  part  he  had 
taken  in  the  resistance  of  the  city,  and  quietly  awaited 
the  judgment  which  should  be  pronounced  upon  him. 

But,  to  his  great  surprise,  and  that  of  all  the  assem- 
bly, Alexander  advanced  towards  the  artist,  gave  him 
his  hand,  conducted  him  to  the  throne  which  he  had 
just  left,  and  forced  him  to  be  seated. 


AKCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  69 

"I  have  punished  the  rebel "  said  he,  "in  causing  the 
engineer  of  the  fortifications  of  Florence  to  be  brought 
here  under  escort ;  and  now,  behold,  how  I  recompense 
the  talent  of  the  greatest  artist  that  ever  existed." 

The  Duke  Alexander  had  been  inspired  to  this  con- 
duct, worthy  of  a  sovereign,  by  Pope  Clement  VII., 
his  brother.  Michael  Angelo  showed  his  gratitude  to 
both,  by  erecting  the  tombs  of  Julian  and  of  Laurent  di 
Medici,  in  the  Church  of  San  Lorenzo. 

The  statue  of  Julian  di  Medici  expresses  strength  and 
energy,  that  of  Laurent  meditation,  therefore  it  has  been 
called  11  Penseroso.  If  all  the  works  of  Michael  An- 
gelo were  not  chefs-d'oeuvre,  before  which  every  one 
must  bow,  11  Penseroso  would  be  marvellous.  Two 
figures,  couched  at  the  feet  of  the  portraits  of  Julian 
and  Laurent,  complete  these  monuments.  One  of  these 
statues,  the  Night,  inspired  a  certain  unknown  poet  to 
write  the  following  stanza,  which  was  found  upon  the 
tomb :  — 

"  La  Notte,  che  tu  vedi  in  si  dolci  atti 
Dormire,  fu  da  un  angel  scolpita 
In  questo  sasso ;  e,  perche  dorme,  ha  vita : 
Destala,  se  nol  credi,  e  parleratti." 

w  The  Night,  which  you  see  sleeping  so  sweetly,  was 
sculptured  in  this  marble  by  an  angel,  and  because  she 
sleeps,  she  lives.  Awake  her,  if  you  do  not  believe  it, 
and  she  will  speak  to  you." 


70  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

This  is  the  answer  of  Michael  Angelo  :  — 

"  Grato  m'e  il  sonno,  e  piu  1'esser  di  sasso, 
Mentre  che  il  danno  e  la  vergogna  dura. 
Non  veder,  non  sentir  m'e  gran  ventura. 
Pero,  non  mi  destar,  deli !  parla  basso ! " 

"It  is  pleasant  to  me  to  sleep,  and  still  more  to  be  in 
marble,  in  this  time  of  misery  and  shame.  To  see 
nothing,  to  hear  nothing,  is  happiness  to  me.  Pray 
speak  softly,  then,  not  to  awaken  me  ! " 

When  these  two  magnificent  monuments  were  com- 
pleted, Michael  Angelo  departed  for  Rome,  where  he 
was  called  by  Clement  VII.  There  he  had  to  sustain  a 
process  against  the  Duke  d'Urbin,  on  account  of  the 
tomb  of  Julius  II.,  which  the  great  sculptor  had  been 
obliged  to  leave  against  his  will.  This  tomb,  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  first  idea  of  Michael  Angelo,  was  to  have 
been  a  gigantic  edifice,  was  reduced  very  much  in  size. 
Notwithstanding  the  offers  of  the  Pope,  who  wished  to 
free  him  from  the  successors  of  Julius  II.,  the  celebrated 
sculptor  declared  himself  ready  to  continue  the  Mausole- 
um, and  finished  the  colossal  figure  of  Moses,  designed 
for  this  monument. 

This  statue,  which  nothing  can  equal,  either  as  an 
inspiration  or  as  a  work  of  art,  is  the  admiration  and 
despair  of  artists ;  grand,  proud,  and  terrible,  as  the 
genius  which  created  it,  it  gives  an  idea  of  what  the 
tomb  of  Julius  II.  would  have  been,  if  Michael  Angelo 
could  have  carried  out  his  plan. 


AKGHITECTS    AND    SCULPTORS.  71 

It  was  while  he  was  working  on  his  Moses,  that 
Clement  VII.  urged  him  to  paint  the  two  extremities 
of  the  Sistine  Chapel,  of  which  Julius  II.  had  forced 
him  to  decorate  the  vault.  Michael  Angelo,  who  had 
always  preferred  sculpture  to  painting,  excused  himself 
as  long  as  he  could,  but  he  was  again  obliged  to  yield, 
and,  as  soon  as  he  commenced  the  work,  he  applied  him- 
self with  great  ardor  to  his  frescoes.  The  Pope  desired 
that  the  Fallen  Angels  should  be  represented  on  one 
side  of  the  chapel,  and  the  Last  Judgment  on  the  other. 

Clement  VII.  died  about  the  time  the  cartoons  for 
the  Last  Judgment  were  made,  and  Paul  III.,  his  suc- 
cessor, fearing  that  he  might  not  see  this  sublime  work, 
persuaded  the  Duke  d'Urbin  to  allow  other  sculptors  to 
finish  the  tomb  of  Julius  II.,  the  statue  of  Moses  suf- 
ficing, according  to  his  judgment,  for  the  ornamentation 
of  the  Mausoleum. 

The  Duke  d'Urbin  complied  with  the  wishes  of  the 
new  pontiff,  and  Michael  Angelo  undertook  the  Last 
Judgment. 

This  fresco  cost  the  artist  eight  years  of  assiduous 
labor  :  but  what  a  picture  !  Michael  Angelo  was,  per- 
haps, the  only  one  among  all  the  painters  who  have 
inscribed  their  names  on  the  pageantry  of  art,  in  letters 
of  gold,  who  was  capable  of  rendering  the  grand  and 
sublime  spectacle  of  generations  of  human  beings  com- 
ing out  of  their  tombs,  to  appear  before  the  Supreme 
Judge  of  the  living  and  the  dead. 


72  THE   PKINCES   OF   ART. 

A  profound  and  sublime  thinker,  an  inspired  poet, 
Michael  Angelo  - knew  how  to  give  all  imaginable  atti- 
tudes to  this  crowd  of  figures ;  how  to  portray  all  the 
passions,  regrets,  and  movements  of  the  soul  upon  their 
features.  There  is  not  a  sentiment,  noble  and  good,  or 
base  and  wicked,  which  cannot  be  found  in  this  immense 
work :  the  entire  history  of  humanity  is  there.  And  as 
the  great  day  of  justice  has  come,  vice,  which  has  been 
so  long  triumphant,  is  confounded,  while  humble  and 
persecuted  virtue  finally  receives  its  recompense. 

Ten  groups,  of  angels,  saints,  martyrs,  of  the  dead 
shaking  off  their  winding-sheets,  of  demons,  and  of  the 
condemned,  placed  under  an  eleventh  group,  represent- 
ing the  Supreme  Judge,  surrounded  by  the  Virgin,  St. 
Peter,  and  Adam,  compose  this  picture ;  in  which  there 
is  so  much  grandeur  and  truth,  that  one  cannot  contem- 
plate it  without  an  emotion  of  terror. 

In  this  fresco,  Michael  Angelo  has  put  his  own  por- 
trait, in  the  costume  of  a  monk,  who  points  out  Christ 
descending  upon  the  clouds.  This  work,  unique  in  its 
kind,  produced  an  inexpressible  sensation ;  it  had  most 
ardent  admirers,  and  severe  critics ;  but  criticism  is  de- 
stroyed by  time :  admiration  still  lives.  The  Pope, 
however,  was  not  particularly  pleased  with  this  com- 
position ;  and  the  grand  master  of  ceremonies  took  the 
liberty  to  say,  in  the  presence  of  Michael  Angelo,  that 
the  picture  would  look  better  in  a  tavern  than  in  the 
church.  He  was  punished  for  his  inconsiderate  speech ; 


ARCHITECTS  AND  SCULPTORS.          73 

for  the  next  morning  he  figured  in  hell,  under  the  fea- 
tures of  Minos.  He  ran  to  the  Pope  to  complain  ;  his 
holiness  answered,  smiling,  — 

"All  power  has  been  given  me  in  heaven,  and  upon 
earth,  but  not  in  hell.  If  you  are  there,  so  much  the 
worse  for  you ;  I  am  not  able  to  take  you  out." 

When  the  first  moment  of  surprise  had  passed,  Paul 
III.  rendered  justice  to  the  genius  of  his  painter,  and 
required  new  works  of  art.  The  architect,  San  Gallo, 
had  built  the  chapel  Pauline,  by  the  order  of  the  Pope ; 
and  Michael  Angelo  decorated  it  with  two  large  pictures  : 
the  Conversion  of  St.  Paul  and  the  Martyrdom  of  St. 
Peter.  These  two  frescoes  are  not  as  well  preserved  as 
that  of  the  Last  Judgment. 

Old  age  came  upon  Michael  Angelo  without  impair- 
ing his  faculties.  After  having  finished  the  paintings 
which  the  Pope  desired,  he  resumed  his  favorite  art, 
sculpture  ;  and  produced  a  new  Descent  from  the  Cross, 
a  magnificent  group  of  four  figures,  cut  from  one  block 
of  marble. 

The  great  artist  hoped  to  finish  his  days  peaceably  in 
his  studio ;  but  it  was  not  to  be.  The  church  of  St. 
Peter,  founded  by  Constantine,  in  the  year  324,  had 
fallen  into  ruins.  Nicholas  V.  intended  to  rebuild  it; 
but  death  had  not  allowed  him  time.  Julius  II.  un- 
dertook it,  and  committed  the  plan  of  the  edifice  to  Bra- 
mante  and  San  Gallo.  But  notwithstanding  the  enor- 
mous sums  of  money  which  they  expended,  the  work 


74  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

did  not  advance,  and  Paul  III.,  seeing  the  impossibility 
of  pursuing  this  enterprise  without  a  man  of  genius  to 
take  direction  of  it,  begged  Michael  Angelo,  who  had 
distinguished  himself  as  an  architect  at  the  construction 
of  the  Library  of  San  Lorenzo,  in  Florence,  to  accept 
the  title  of  architect  of  St.  Peter's. 

Michael  Angelo,  who  was  then  seventy-two  years  of 
age,  knowing  the  responsibility  and  care  of  such  an 
undertaking,  would  gladly  have  avoided  it;  but  Paul 
III.  was  so  persistent,  and  so  ably  demonstrated  the 
glory  which  the  completion  of  the  Basilica  would  give 
to  religion,  that  Michael  Angelo  consented  to  all  that 
he  asked. 

Michael  Angelo  found  it  was  impossible  to  execute 
the  plan  of  Bramante,  modified  by  San  Gallo.  He 
proved  this  to  the  Pope,  and  traced  a  new  plan,  which 
reduced  the  edifice  to  the  form  of  a  Greek  cross.  He 
suppressed  a  number  of  details,  which  he  thought  in- 
jurious to  the  majesty  of  the  whole,  and  Paul  III.  gave 
his  entire  consent  to  the  simple  and  grand  proportions 
of  his  plan. 

Michael  Angelo,  fearing  that  death  might  overtake 
him  before  he  had  proceeded  so  far  with  the  Basilica 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  change  anything,  com- 
menced his  work  the  day  after  his  appointment.  On 
assuming  this  charge,  he  made  an  express  condition  that 
he  would  accept  no  recompense ;  and  this  generous  con- 
duct placing  him  at  his  ease,  he  took  the  immediate 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  75 

direction  of  all  the  work  in  hand ;  thus  ruining  the  cov- 
etous hopes  of  a  great  number  who  speculated  upon  the 
disorder  introduced  into  this  great  undertaking. 

It  is  useless  to  say  that  these  people  were  enemies  to 
Michael  Angelo.  But  the  great  man  had  learned  from 
his  youth  to  despise  the  wicked  and  envious ;  so  that, 
despite  cabals  and  vexations  of  all  sorts,  he  kept  on 
firmly  towards  the  end  which  he  had  proposed  to  him- 
self. It  was  in  vain  that  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany, 
wishing  to  take  advantage  of  the  last  sparks  of  this  rare 
genius,  urged  him  to  come  to  his  court ;  Michael  Angelo 
refused  to  leave  his  Church,  saying  to  himself,  to  leave 
it  would  be  a  great  loss,  a  great  shame,  and  a  great  sin. 

Michael  Angelo  consecrated  seventeen  years  to  this 
work ;  and  if  he  had  not  the  pleasure  of  seeing  it  com- 
pleted, he  had,  at  least,  the  certainty  that  it  would  be 
finished  with  a  religious  respect  for  the  plans  he  had 
traced. 

He  did  not  abandon  his  ordinary  occupations,  even 
while  a  prey  to  a  slow  fever,  which  he  felt  would  carry 
him  to  his  grave ;  on  the  contrary,  he  seemed  to  hasten 
all  the  more  as  death  approached.  He  finished  his 
laborious  career  on  the  17th  of  February,  1563.  He 
died  as  he  had  lived,  an  honest  man,  and  a  good 
Christian. 

His  will  was  calmly  dictated  to  his  nephew,  Leonardo 
Buonarotti,  in  these  terms  :  "  I  leave  my  soul  to  God, 
my  body  to  the  earth,  my  property  to  my  nearest  rel- 
atives." 


76  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

Michael  Angelo  had  never  married :  his  affection  was 
devoted  to  his  art,  and  prevented  his  thinking  of  the 
cares  of  a  family.  Arrived  at  that  age  when  one 
begins  to  feel  the  need  of  a  friend  and  a  support,  he 
found  all  he  desired  in  the  devotion  of  his  servant 
Urbino,  whose  death  cast  a  gloom  over  his  declining 
years.  He  was  so  much  attached  to  this  servant,  that 
he  took  care  of  him  during  his  last  illness,  and  passed 
whole  nights  at  his  bedside,  although  then  in  the  eighty- 
second  year  of  his  age. 

"  Life  was  dear  to  me,"  he  said  to  one  of  his  friends, 
"  while  I  had  my  Urbino  ;  dying,  he  has  taught  me  how 
to  die,  and  I  now  await  death  without  fear,  but  with 
longing  and  with  joy.  He  was  mine  for  twenty-six 
years ;  I  found  him  faithful  and  true ;  and  now  that  I 
had  made  him  rich,  I  hoped  that  he  would  be  the  com- 
fort of  my  old  age :  but  I  have  lost  him !  No  other 
hope  remains  but  that  of  meeting  him  in  Paradise." 

These  regrets  show  us  the  kindness  of  Michael  An- 
gelo's  heart ;  a  kindness  not  the  less  real  because  it  was 
concealed  under  a  somewhat  rough  exterior.  Exposed 
to  the  malice  of  the  envious  from  his  youth,  the  great 
artist  had  become  somewhat  misanthropic;  he  loved 
solitude,  and  found  his  greatest  pleasure  in  labor.  An 
enemy  to  nonsense,  falsehood,  and  meanness,  he  would 
never  condescend  to  flatter  any  one,  therefore  he  owed 
nothing  to  intrigue.  Besides,  his  wants  were  so  lim- 
ited, that  he  could  easily  dispense  with  the  favors  of  the 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  77 

great.  In  his  extreme  sobriety  he  was  satisfied  with  a 
piece  of  bread  and  a  glass  of  water,  and  the  luxury  of 
his  dress  did  not  exceed  that  of  his  table.  When  he 
became  rich,  his  habits  of  austere  simplicity  were  very 
little  changed ;  but  he  procured  for  himself  the  sweetest 
of  all  pleasures,  that  of  making  others  happy.  His 
relations,  his  servants,  and  young  artists  striving  to  ad- 
vance, received  the  greater  part  of  the  fruits  of  his  labor. 
He  loved  to  make  presents,  but  feared  to  accept  them, 
because  he  considered  them  as  inconvenient  ties,  difficult 
to  be  broken,  and  he  loved  his  liberty  too  well  to  risk 
compromising  it. 

Besides  being  a  sculptor,  architect,  and  painter,  Mi- 
chael Angelo  was  also  a  poet.  He  delighted  in  Dante 
and  Petrarch,  to  whom  he  devoted  his  few  hours  of 
leisure.  He  composed  quite  a  number  of  sonnets,  re- 
plete with  the  nobleness  and  generosity  of  his  soul,  but 
tinged  by  a  bitter  melancholy,  caused  by  the  injustice 
of  others. 

The  reading  which  he  preferred  to  all  the  Italian  poets, 
was  that  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  from  which  he  drew 
those  great  inspirations,  which  he  reproduced  with  his  pen- 
cil or  his  chisel,  and  he  learned  to  attribute  all  his  suc- 
cess in  those  labors  to  Him  to  whom  he  owed  his  genius. 

We  should  be  astonished  to  see  how  many  great 
works  a  life  of  eighty-nine  years  sufficed  to  produce, 
did  we  not  know  that  this  illustrious  artist  was  endowed 
with  an  untiring  assiduity,  great  energy,  abundance  of 


78  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

thought,  and  an  extreme  facility  for  labor.  He  not 
only  consecrated  his  days,  but  a  great  part  of  his  nights, 
to  work. 

His  admirable  genius  was  appreciated,  as  it  ought  to 
be,  not  only  by  the  Popes,  but  by  all  Europe.  The 
Sultan  Soliman,  the  Emperor  Charles  V.,  the  Seigniory 
of  Venice,  and  Francis  I. ,  endeavored  to  induce  him  to 
leave  his  country  by  most  advantageous  offers ;  but  he 
loved  Florence  and  Rome,  the  seat  of  the  fine  arts. 
Although  sensibly  affected  by  the  testimonies  of  admira- 
tion which  were  bestowed  upon  him,  he  refused  the  fortune 
and  honors  which  awaited  him  among  foreign  princes. 

Francis  I.,  who  knew  so  well  how  to  appreciate  an 
artist,  ardently  desired  to  have  this  famous  genius  at  his 
court,  and  Michael  Angelo  would,  without  doubt,  have 
given  him  the  preference ;  but  the  king  was  obliged  to 
content  himself  with  casts  of  the  beautiful  statues  of  the 
Florentine  sculptor,  after  having  asked  permission  in  a 
letter  delivered  to  Michael  Angelo,  by  Primaticcio. 

"  SIR  MICHAEL  ANGELO. 

"Being  very  desirous  of  possessing  some  of  your 
works,  I  have  charged  the  bearer,  the  Abbe  of  St.  Mar- 
tin de  Troys,  whom  I  send  from  beyond  the  mountains, 
to  beg  you,  if  you  have  some  excellent  statues  ready 
made  on  his  arrival,  that  you  will  allow  him  to  take  casts 
from  them ;  and  also  from  the  Christ  of  the  Minerva, 
and  the  statue  Notre  Dame  de  la  Febbre ;  that  I  may 


ARCHITECTS   AND    SCULPTORS.  79 

adorn  one  of  my  chapels  with  them,  as  I  am  assured 
that  they  are  among  the  exquisite  and  excellent  in  your 
art.  I  have  authorized  the  Abbe*  to  pay  you  well  for 
said  favor. 

"May  God  bless  and  keep  you,  Sir  Michael  Angelo. 

"Written  from  Saint  Germain  en  Laye,  the  sixteenth 
day  of  February,  1546. 

"  FRANCIS." 

We  terminate  the  history  of  Michael  Angelo,  by  say- 
ing, that  if  there  is  anything  more  glorious  than  having 
excelled  in  three  different  arts,  it  is  that  one  cannot  find 
a  single  act  in  his  long  life,  which  could  prevent  his 
being  considered  as  the  most  loyal  and  most  irreproach- 
able man  of  his  century. 


BENVENUTO    CELLINI. 

Benvenuto  Cellini,  a  painter,  sculptor,  and  engraver, 
was  born  in  Florence  in  1500.  His  father,  who  was 
one  of  the  musicians  employed  by  the  Grand  Duke,  had 
long  wished  for  a  son,  so  that  his  birth  was  joyfully 
welcomed,  and  he  received  the  name  of  Benvenuto,  or 
Welcome.  As  soon  as  he  was  old  enough  to  study, 
Cellini,  whose  ambition  was  to  make  a  virtuoso  of  his 
son,  put  a  music-book  into  his  hands ;  but  Benvenuto 
manifested  the  greatest  repugnance  for  the  notes  he  was 


80  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

to  decipher,  and  drew  upon  himself  frequent  reprimands 
and  punishments.  He  was  very  intelligent,  and  had  a 
good  memory  :  he  was  capable  of  learning  all  that  was 
taught  him  :  but  when  the  will  was  wanting,  was  un- 
conquerably obstinate. 

He  became  disgusted  with  music,  and  declared  to  his 
father  that  he  never  would  be  a  musician.  Master  Cellini, 
having  undertaken  to  overcome  his  repugnance,  he  ran 
away  from  the  paternal  home,  and  took  refuge  in  Flor- 
ence. There  he  offered  himself  to  a  silversmith,  who, 
prepossessed  by  his  good  appearance,  took  him  as  an 
apprentice.  Benvenuto  applied  himself  arduously  to 
his  lessons,  and  soon  became  very  skilful  in  the  art  of 
chiselling  gold  and  silver.  His  master  confided  to  him 
the  most  difficult  and  delicate  works,  and  he  acquitted 
himself  admirably.  Perceiving  that  he  must  understand 
drawing  to  become  a  good  silversmith,  as  he  desired,  he 
devoted  himself  to  it,  and  even  learned  painting. 

Having  executed  works  of  great  beauty,  he  returned 
to  his  native  city,  where  he  soon  gained  a  high  reputa- 
tion. The  Grand  Duke  wished  to  retain  him  there ; 
but  Benvenuto  was  not  long  contented  in  one  place,  and 
had  for  some  years  desired  to  see  Rome.  He  went  there 
unknown ;  and  notwithstanding  the  many  celebrities  of 
all  kinds  who  were  in  the  city,  he  soon  acquired  a  rep- 
utation, by  producing  some  of  his  marvellous  gold  and 
silver  work,  such  as  vases,  cups,  and  ewers,  so  richly 
engraven,  and  wrought  with  so  much  patience  and  taste, 


ARCHITECTS    AND    SCULPTORS.  81 

that,  however  precious  the  material  might  be,  it  was 
nothing  in  comparison.  The  Pope,  recognizing  the 
talent  of  this  artist,  appointed  him  Director  of  the  Mint, 
and  gave  him  the  execution  of  a  great  number  of  me- 
dallions. 

Benvenuto  occupied  all  his  leisure  in  sculpture.  He 
knew  how  to  model,  and  had  cast  statuettes  and  little 
figures  in  gold  and  silver ;  he  soon  undertook  larger 
works,  in  which  he  gained  a  brilliant  renown.  Proud 
of  his  success,  he  fancied  himself  beyond  the  law,  and 
submitted  to  no  other  rule  than  that  of  his  own  violent, 
impetuous,  and  capricious  temper.  Generous  at  heart, 
he  would  not  have  sought  a  quarrel ;  but  he  could  never 
forgive  a  declared  enemy,  and  was  ever  ready  to  obtain 
justice  for  their  calumnies  with  sword  or  poniard. 
Space  fails  us,  to  recount  the  numerous  adventures  rela- 
ted in  his  Memoirs  ;  for  Benvenuto  was  also  a  writer,  and 
related  his  deeds  with  the  pride  of  a  man  who  knew  how 
to  show  himself  superior  to  the  vulgar. 

When  he  committed  some  crime,  as,  for  instance,  kill- 
ing an  adversary  in  a  duel,  or  infringing  upon  the  orders 
of  the  Pope,  he  would  hide  himself  among  his  friends, 
and  not  re-appear  until  the  Pope,  regretting  the  loss  of 
so  much  talent,  showed  signs  of  indulgence.  Once  it 
happened  that  he  had  no  time  to  flee ;  but  instead  of 
giving  himself  up  to  the  force  which  surrounded  his 
house,  he  distributed  arms  to  some  of  his  apprentices, 
and  sustained  a  siege,  in  which  he  came  off  conqueror. 
6 


82  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

There  was  as  much  of  the  soldier  as  the  artist  in  this 
extraordinary  man :  the  agitated  life  of  the  camp  would 
have  been  agreeable  to  him,  and  he  would  have  acquired 
glory  in  such  a  sphere.  The  Constable  of  Bourbon 
having  come  to  besiege  Rome  in  1527,  Pope  Clement 
VII.  intrusted  Benvenuto  with  the  defence  of  St.  An- 
gelo,  and  the  event  proved  that  he  was  not  mistaken  in 
his  estimate  of  the  courage  and  ability  of  the  sculptor. 
Cellini  displayed  as  much  prudence  as  bravery  :  with 
only  a  handful  of  brave  men,  he  sustained  the  attacks 
of  a  large  army,  and  caused  much  loss  to  the  enemy. 
The  city  fell  into  the  power  of  the  Constable,  but  the 
Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  in  which  the  Pope  had  taken 
refuge,  was  not  captured. 

Benvenuto  travelled  through  all  Italy,  leaving  at  Na- 
ples, Venice,  and  Florence,  vases  and  arms  of  infinite 
value.  He  afterwards  went  to  Paris,  where  he  was  re- 
ceived with  great  honor  by  Francis  I.  This  prince, 
who  was  a  passionate  lover  of  the  arts,  tried  to  retain 
Benvenuto  at  his  court ;  but  the  latter,  who  was  very 
sensitive,  having  had  some  bickerings  with  envious 
people,  on  whom  he  could  not  take  vengeance,  as  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  do  in  Italy,  did  not  yield  to  the 
solicitations  of  Francis  I.,  and  returned  to  Rome. 

He  was  not  happy  in  that  city.  Pope  Clement  VII. 
was  dead,  and  his  successor,  Paul  III.,  had  less  indul- 
gence for  Benvenuto.  After  having  threatened  him 
several  times  with  the  vengeance  of  the  laws,  if  he  did 


ARCHITECTS    AND    SCULPTORS.  83 

not  behave  as  an  obedient  and  faithful  subject,  he  put 
him  in  prison.  Cellini  was  in  despair  :  he  had  thought 
that  his  genius  protected  him  from  such  a  fate.  His 
health  became  impaired  :  he  feared  he  must  succumb  to 
the  chagrin  of  seeing  himself  unacknowledged,  and  de- 
prived of  his  dear  liberty.  Perhaps  he  could  not  have 
survived,  had  not  the  recollection  that  many  prisoners 
had  succeeded  in  baffling  the  watchfulness  of  their  keep- 
ers, and  made  their  escape,  animated  his  courage.  He 
made  many  attempts,  which  his  imagination  approved, 
but  which  succeeded  only  in  causing  him  to  be  more 
closely  guarded,  and  he  began  to  despair  of  success ; 
when  Francis  I.,  having  heard  of  his  captivity,  ordered 
his  ambassador  to  recommend  this  artist,  whom  he 
greatly  loved,  to  the  clemency  of  the  Pontiff. 

Paul  III.  complied  with  the  request  of  his  Most 
Christian  Majesty,  and  set  the  prisoner  at  liberty.  Celli- 
ni went  immediately  to  his  protector  to  thank  him,  and 
devote  the  talent  he  so  much  admired  to  his  service. 
Francis  received  him  as  an  old  friend,  gave  him  the 
castle  of  Nesle  as  a  residence,  and  ordered  everything 
which  was  necessary  for  the  execution  of  the  works  he 
should  undertake,  to  be  placed  at  his  disposal.  Ben- 
venuto,  happy  to  find  himself  free,  set  to  work  with 
good  will,  and  showed  himself  worthy  of  the  kindness 
of  the  king.  Admirable  arms,  and  vases  of  rare  rich- 
ness, were  produced  ;  and  while  chiselling  these  objects 
of  marvellous  beauty,  and  making  jewels,  such  as  never 


84  THE   PKINCES   OF  ART. 

before  had  been  seen,  for  the  ladies  of  the  court,  he 
meditated  a  statue  of  Jupiter,  which  should  be  his  chef- 
d'oeuvre. 

Benvenuto  had  a  countryman  at  the  court  of  Francis 
I. —  Primaticcio.  He  was  a  sculptor,  painter,  and  archi- 
tect, and  had  been  sent  by  the  Duke  of  Mantua  to  the 
King  of  France ;  who,  wishing  to  create  marvels  for  the 
palace  of  Fontainebleau,  had  need  of  a  great  artist.  The 
Italian  had  fulfilled  all  the  requirements,  and  Francis 
had  recompensed  him  by  loading  him  with  riches  and 
honor,  and  above  all,  by  according  to  him  his  friendship. 
Primaticcio  was  one  of  the  chief  personages  of  the  court ; 
artists  solicited  his  protection,  and  his  position  as  com- 
missary general  of  the  king's  buildings,  gave  him  power 
to  dispose  of  the  paintings  and  sculpture  destined  to  em- 
bellish the  royal  residences.  Cellini,  sure  of  his  genius, 
had  no  fear  of  rivalry,  particularly  as  he  had  been  called 
to  France  by  the  king  himself:  he  did  not  think  he  owed 
Primaticcio  more  than  the  simple  compliments  exchanged 
between  equals.  The  painter  of  Francis  I.,  thinking  his 
superiority  was  threatened  by  the  new  comer,  and  fear- 
ing to  divide  with  him  the  favor  of  the  monarch,  to  whom 
the  adventurous  and  bold  character  of  the  Florentine 
was  not  displeasing,  saw  in  him  a  rival,  and  treated  him 
as  an  enemy. 

At  that  time  there  was  a  person  in  France  who 
possessed  more  power  than  the  king, —  it  was  the  Duchess 
d'Etampes.  Charles  V.  knew  this  so  well,  that,  having 


ARCHITECTS  AND  SCULPTORS.          85 

obtained  from  Francis  I.  permission  to  traverse  his 
states  in  order  to  punish  the  Gantois  revolt,  he  did  not 
feel  sure  of  going  out  of  them  safe  and  sound  until  he  had 
made  an  alliance  with  the  Duchess.  How  he  succeeded  is 
well  known.  Francis  I.  having  received  the  Emperor 
at  his  palace  of  Fontainebleau,  where  the  court  was,  just 
as  they  were  about  sitting  at  table,  two  ladies  of  the 
suite  of  the  Duchess  approached  Charles  V.,  and  having 
a  ewer  and  a  gold  basin,  they  offered  him  to  wash. 
Madame  d'Etampes  stood  behind  them,  holding  a  nap- 
kin. At  the  moment  she  presented  it  to  the  Emperor, 
he  designedly  slipped  from  his  finger  a  ring  of  great 
value.  The  Duchess  picked  it  up,  and  offered  it  to  him. 

"Your  hands  are  too  beautiful  to  give  it  up,"  said 
Charles  V.,  adding  flattery  to  the  worth  of  the  present ; 
"keep  it,  I  pray  you,  for  my  sake." 

We  cannot  say  how  much  blood  might  have  been 
spared  Europe  if  this  ring  had  not  been  offered  to 
Madame  d'Etampes. 

But  to  return  to  Benvenuto  :  what  we  have  just  rela- 
ted was  intended  only  to  show  the  power  of  the  Duchess. 
Primaticcio,  who  knew  how  to  gain  the  favor  of  the 
Duchess,  calumniated  and  prejudiced  her  against  Celli- 
ni, who  soon  perceived  that  the  favor  of  the  king  was 
nothing  in  comparison  to  hers.  Obstacles  were  placed 
in  his  way,  his  genius  was  questioned,  and  when  he  sub- 
mitted the  project  of  casting  a  statue  of  Jupiter  for 
Francis  I.,  Primaticcio  obtained  permission  to  purchase 


86  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

antique  marbles  in  Italy,  and  to  cast  such  statues  and 
groups  as  he  could  not  buy.  Benvenuto  understood  that 
his  adversary,  by  suggesting  comparison,  had  taken  the 
best  way  to  underrate  the  merit  of  the  work  he  intended 
to  do  :  but  he  did  not  shrink  from  it. 

He  worked  on  his  Jupiter  during  the  absence  of 
Primaticcio,  and  finished  it  before  he  returned ;  but  the 
Duchess  d'Etampes  prevailed  upon  the  king  not  to  allow 
the  statue  to  be  set  up  until  Primaticcio  returned  with 
his.  The  antique  marbles  were  much  admired,  as  also 
were  the  statues  cast  from  the  most  celebrated  which 
Italy  possessed ;  but,  after  having  contemplated  all  these 
chefs-d'oeuvre,  they  could  not  refuse  the  most  flattering 
praises  to  the  work  of  Benvenuto.  Cellini  owed  this 
triumph  more  to  his  address  than  to  his  talent.  The 
groups  brought  from  Italy  were  arranged  in  the  gallery 
through  which  the  king  had  to  pass,  and  the  Jupiter 
was  placed  in  a  bad  light.  Cellini  knew  how  to  remedy 
this  evil,  by  putting  little  rollers  under  his  statue,  by 
means  of  which  he  was  enabled  to  advance  the  master 
of  the  gods  towards  the  King  of  France  at  the  desired 
moment. 

Benvenuto  remained  some  time  longer  with  Francis 
I.  ;  then,  tired  of  seeing  himself  exposed  to  the  jealousy  of 
Primaticcio,  and  feeling  that  he  was  not  liked  by  the 
nobles,  to  whom  his  haughty  manners  were  disagree- 
.able,  he  took  leave  of  his  noble  protector,  and  returned 
to  Florence.  He  cast  the  statue  of  Perseus,  which  is 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  87 

considered  his  chef-d'oeuvre,  in  bronze,  for  Duke  Cosmo 
di  Medici,  who  desired  it. 

In  Italy  he  found  the  envy  which  he  was  seeking  to 
avoid.  The  middling  class  of  artists,  whom  he  did  not 
treat  courteously,  were  his  enemies.  He  nearly  killed 
Baccio  Bandinelli,  by  whom  he  had  been  calumniated ; 
but  when  he  saw  him  pale  and  trembling,  he  pitied  and 
pardoned  him.  The  continual  conflict  with  his  rivals 
soured  his  temper,  and  made  him  misanthropic ;  his 
work  failed  to  afford  him  distraction  of  mind.  He  grew 
old  in  the  midst  of  persecutions,  exposed  to  base  in- 
trigues, and,  disgusted  with  humanity',  saw  the  approach 
of  death  with  joy.  He  was  a  zealous  admirer  of  the 
genius  of  Michael  Angelo,  whom  he  survived  six  years. 
Having,  like  him,  suffered  all  the  sadness  of  isolation, 
he  expired  in  1590,  at  the  age  of  seventy  years. 

Benvenuto  Cellini  has  never  been  equalled  as  a  silver- 
smith ;  and  if  he  is  not  immortalized  in  this  art,  he  still 
holds  a  high  rank  among  the  painters  and  sculptors  of 
Italy.  He  is  also  noted  as  a  writer,  and  his  Memoirs, 
if  we  excuse  the  vanity  which  seems  to  have  dictated 
them,  are  distinguished  by  a  naive  and  charming  style. 


88  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

CANOVA. 

Antonio  Canova  was  born  in  1747,  at  Passagno,  a 
small  Venetian  city.  At  a  very  early  age  he  became 
the  protege*  of  Signer  Falieri,  one  of  the  first  personages 
in  Passagno.  While  a  young  child,  Antonio  took  great 
pleasure  in  making  small  figures  with  crumbs  of  bread, 
or  bits  of  clay :  these  were  much  admired  by  his  mother 
and  his  school  companions.  As  he  grew  up,  he  em- 
ployed all  the  time  not  occupied  in  learning  to  read  and 
write,  in  modelling  all  sorts  of  animals.  One  day  he 
made  a  lion  of  butter,  which  was  served  at  the  table  of 
Signer  Falieri ;  and  he,  charmed  with  the  propensity  of 
Canova  for  sculpture,  provided  him  with  a  teacher. 

Antonio  profited  so  well  by  his  instruction,  that  in  a 
few  years  he  was  advised  to  go  to  Venice,  to  study  with 
Torreti,  who  was  considered  a  very  able  sculptor,  the 
age  of  the  great  masters  having  passed,  and  the  arts  fallen 
into  complete  decay.  In  a  short  time  Canova  equalled 
his  teacher,  and  many  prizes  being  awarded  to  him  by 
the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  he  hired  a  small  shop,  in 
which  he  established  himself.  At  seventeen  years  of 
age,  he  executed  a  group  of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice, 
which  gave  him  celebrity ;  and  his  works  beginning  to 
be  sought  after,  he  quitted  his  shop  for  a  more  conven- 
ient atelier. 

The  greatest  eulogiums  were  bestowed  upon  his  sec- 


ARCHITECTS  AND  SCULPTORS.          89 

ond  group,  of  Dedalus  and  Icarus,  which  appeared 
soon  after.  For  a  long  time  Venice  had  not  had  a  sculp- 
tor worthy  of  the  name ;  so  that  the  works  of  Canova, 
however  imperfect  they  might  be,  had  enthusiastic  ad- 
mirers, and  several  patricians  ordered  statues  from  the 
young  artist.  The  group  of  Dedalus  and  Icarus  was 
sold  for  one  hundred  sequins ;  and  Canova,  on  receiving 
this  sum,  joyfully  cried  out,  "At  last  I  shall  go  to 
Rome ! " 

He  felt  that  he  could  never  reach  the  perfection  to 
which  he  aspired  without  a  master,  and  wished  to  find 
models  and  advice  in  the  city  of  the  fine  arts.  Gavino 
Hamilton,  an  English  painter,  having  seen  the  Dedalus 
in  plaster,  thought  that  a  young  man,  endowed  with  so 
rare  a  genius,  ought  to  be  encouraged,  and  by  his  ad- 
vice the  Senate  of  Venice  granted  three  hundred  ducats 
to  Canova,  and  the  ambassador  of  the  republic  to  the 
Pope  called  him  to  Rome,  where  he  went  in  1779. 

There  he  found  an  excellent  adviser  in  Gavino  Ham- 
ilton, whose  love  for  the  antique  had  made  him  a  con- 
noisseur in  art.  The  study  of  the  great  works  of  Mi- 
chael Angelo  enlarged  his  ideas,  improved  his  taste,  and 
made  him  feel  the  need  of  learning  everything  possible 
in  his  art  that  was  unknown  to  him.  Until  then  he 
had  obeyed  his  instinct  only  while  working,  without 
having  any  exact  ideas  of.  the  rules  he  ought  to  observe, 
or  of  that  ideal  which  gives  so  great  a  charm  to  the 
works  of  painters  and  sculptors.  This  instruction  he 


90  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

never  had,  and  he  was  indebted  for  it  to  the  Chevalier 
Hamilton  and  to  Lagrene*e,  director  of  the  school  foun- 
ded at  Rome  by  Louis  XIV. 

The  ambassador  of  Venice  placed  a  block  of  marble 
at  the  disposition  of  Canova,  and  he  made  of  it  an 
Apollo  crowning  himself.  Although  this  statue  was 
superior  to  the  two  groups  of  which  we  have  spoken,  it 
was  not  irreproachable.  The  Apollo  was  deficient  in 
that  grandeur  and  beauty  which  imagination  lends  to  the 
gods :  it  was  a  well-chosen  model,  but  did  not  attain  the 
ideal  desired  by  the  young  artist.  However,  Canova 
had  improved  too  much  to  feel  discouragement.  He 
continued  to  study  with  fresh  ardor,  and  went  to  Venice 
to  finish  some  works  which  he  had  previously  begun  in 
that  city.  While  working,  he  planned  a  new  group, 
for  which  he  wished  to  seek  and  slowly  mature  a 
subject. 

Canova  returned  to  Rome  in  1792,  and  made  a  The- 
seus Conqueror  of  the  Minotaur.  This  group  showed 
the  intelligent  study  which  the  young  man  had  made  of 
the  antique  models,  and  astonished  the  amateurs  by  an 
execution  which  seemed  to  reveal  a  well-formed  talent. 
The  taste  for  the  antique  had  been  out  of  fashion  for 
some  time ;  so  that  the  appearance  of  the  group  of  The- 
seus signalized  a  revolution  in  the  arts.  M.  Quatre- 
mere  de  Quincy,  afterwards  the  friend  and  historian  of 
Canova,  having  heard  that  a  young  Venetian  had  just 
composed  a  very  remarkable  group,  wishing  to  judge  of 


ARCHITECTS   AND   SCULPTORS.  91 

the  justice  of  the  praises  given  to  it,  went  to  the  studio 
of  the  sculptor.  Canova  was  absent,  and  the  amateur 
had  a  good  opportunity  to  examine  the  work  of  which  he 
had  heard  so  much,  quite  at  his  ease.  He  recognized 
that  it  merited  all  the  praise  which  had  been  bestowed 
upon  it;  and,  foreseeing  the  brilliant  career  which 
awaited  the  young  artist,  offered  him  his  friendship  and 
his  counsel.  Canova  thankfully  accepted  the  precious 
offers,  and  found  a  second  brother  in  his  new  friend. 

The  sculptor  had  chosen  to  represent  Theseus  at  the 
moment  when,  conqueror  of  the  monster,  he  seated  him- 
self triumphantly  on  the  body  of  his  enemy.  Thanks  to 
this  idea,  Theseus,  who,  in  the  efforts  of  a  contest, 
could  have  appeared  only  as  a  man,  showed,  in  the 
calmness  of  victory,  the  majesty  of  a  demigod.  This 
work,  though  one  of  the  first  by  which  the  artist  made 
himself  known,  is  still  mentioned  with  honor. 

Canova  has  left  many  famous  works,  among  which 
we  shall  enumerate  the  principal  which  deserve  the  ad- 
miration of  posterity.  He  was  intrusted  with  erecting 
the  tomb  of  Pope  Clement  XIY.  in  the  Church  of  the 
Holy  Apostles  at  Rome,  and  placed  the  statue  of  this 
Pope  standing  upon  the  Mausoleum,  with  his  hands  ex- 
tended, as  if  to  bless  the  people.  The  head  of  the  statue 
is  exceedingly  beautiful,  and,  as  it  were,  radiant  with 
that  divine  charity,  that  inexpressible  kindness,  which 
was  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  Clement  XIV.  The 
tomb  of  Clement  XIII. ,  which  he  erected,  and  which  is 


92  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

still  admired  in  the  Basilica  of  St.  Peter's,  surpasses 
in  purity  of  taste  that  of  Clement  XIV. 

The  Mausoleum  of  Maria  Christina,  Arch-duchess  of 
Austria,  is  a  vast  composition  of  an  original  idea,  but 
the  effect  is  complicated;  nine  statues  of  life  size,  of 
which  each  passed  for  a  chef-d'oeuvre,  ornament  this 
monument. 

The  Countess  d'Albani,  whose  friendship  for  the  cele- 
brated poet  Alfieri  has  never  been  denied,  called  Canova 
to  Florence,  to  erect  a  monument  to  him  in  the  Church 
of  Santa  Croce,  which  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
works  of  the  sculptor.  Many  statues,  among  which  is 
a  Psyche  as  a  Child,  and  a  Washington,  date  from  this 
period.  Psyche,  holding  a  butterfly  by  the  wings,  is  a 
little  wonder  of  taste  and  delicacy ;  Washington,  a 
white  marble  statue,  in  Roman  drapery,  was  made  for 
the  senate  chamber  of  South  Carolina,  in  the  United 
States  :  it  is  marked  by  a  grandeur  and  simplicity  worthy 
of  the  antique. 

In  1798  Canova  left  Italy,  and  travelled  through  a 
part  of  Prussia  and  Germany,  with  Prince  Rezzonico. 
On  his  return  from  this  journey,  which  lasted  two  years, 
he  was  appointed  inspector  general  of  the  fine  arts,  by 
Pius  VII. ,  and  received  the  title  of  Roman  Knight. 
His  reputation  had  spread  through  Europe,  and  he  was 
invited  to  Paris,  by  Bonaparte,  in  1802.  The  artist 
accepted,  with  the  Pope's  consent,  and  was  received 
with  all  the  distinction  due  to  his  rare  merit.  He  was 


ARCHITECTS    AND    SCULPTORS.  93 

shown  all  that  France  possessed  of  fine  sculpture,  both 
ancient  and  modern,  and  the  Institution  of  Fine  Arts 
admitted  him  to  the  rank  of  foreign  membership. 

Canova  went  to  Florence  again  in  1815.  Through 
the  conquests  of  Napoleon,  the  Museum  of  the  Louvre 
was  enriched  by  the  most  remarkable  chefs-d'oeuvre  of 
painting  and  sculpture  possessed  by  foreign  museums. 
The  allied  powers,  after  having  overcome  the  great 
man  who  had  conquered  them  so  many  times,  did  not 
forget  to  reclaim  the  artistic  treasures  of  which  he  had 
despoiled  them,  and  it  was  agreed  that  all  these  monu- 
ments should  be  returned  to  their  former  owners. 

The  pontifical  government,  to  which  a  large  propor- 
tion of  these  monuments  belonged,  sent  Canova  to  Paris, 
with  the  title  of  Ambassador,  and  power  to  bring  back 
the  statues  carried  from  Eome,  and  attend  to  their 
transportation. 

Having  executed  this  commission  to  the  satisfaction 
of  the  Pope,  Canova  was  rewarded  with  a  diploma, 
which  testified  that  his  name  was  written  in  the  golden 
book  of  the  Capitol,  with  the  title  of  Marquis  d'Ischia. 
To  this  title  was  added  a  gift  of  three  thousand  crowns, 
Roman  money.  Canova,  enriched  by  his  labor,  and  sim- 
ple in  his  tastes,  consecrated  his  new  fortune  to  the  pros- 
perity of  the  arts.  He  was  a  zealous  and  benevolent  pro- 
tector of  talented  youth,  to  whom  he  opened  his  purse, 
and  freely  gave  his  advice. 

The  last  years  of  his  life  were  occupied  in  construct- 


94  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

ing  a  church  in  his  native  town,  Passagno,  where  he 
intended  to  place  a  colossal  statue  of  Religion,  which 
could  not  be  admitted  into  the  Basilica  of  St.  Peter's. 
This  building  is  a  Rotunda,  in  stone,  in  imitation  of  the 
Parthenon  at  Athens,  which  is  of  marble. 

Canova  died  at  Venice,  the  twenty-second  of  October, 
1822,  without  seeing  the  completion  of  his  church.  He 
was  buried  with  great  pomp,  and  there  were  magnificent 
funeral  services  in  honor  of  him  in  all  the  Italian  cities. 
For  many  years  this  classic  country  had  not  produced  a 
genius  comparable  to  Canova,  and  during  his  long  and 
glorious  career,  he  enriched  it  with  a  great  number  of 
chefs-d'oeuvre.  It  was  just  that  all  Italy  should  render 
him  this  last  tribute  of  respect. 


PAINTERS. 


THE  FIRST  PAINTERS. 

VERY  little  is  known  of  the  history  of  painting  among 
the  Greeks  until  the  ninetieth  Olympiad,  that  is  to  say, 
four  hundred  and  twenty  years  before  the  Christian  era. 
However,  it  is  certain  that  the  origin  of  this  art  is  much 
more  remote,  since  they  painted  at  the  time  of  the  siege 
of  Troy :  historians  tell  us  that  Helena  drew,  on  tap- 
estry, the  many  battles  caused  by  her  abduction. 

The  first  Greek  painters  made  use  of  one  color  only. 
Eumaris  used  two,  one  for  the  skin,  the  other  for  the 
clothing.  Cimon,  his  pupil,  used  still  more.  Hereto- 
fore painters  had  represented  only  two  figures,  and 
these  standing  side  by  side,  presenting  a  front  view. 
Cimon  gave  them  various  attitudes,  and  conceived  the 
idea  of  putting  folds  in  his  draperies. 

Bularchos,  who  lived  about  seven  hundred  years 
before  Christ,  painted  the  Battle  of  Magnesia,  and, 
according  to  Pliny,  Candaulus,  king  of  Lydia,  paid  for 
this  picture  its  weight  in  gold. 

(95) 


96  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

Without  doubt  Bularchos  had  pupils  and  successors  ; 
however,  there  is  no  mention  of  any  painter  between 
him  and  Panoenus,  brother  of  the  famous  sculptor  Phid- 
ias. Pancenus  painted  the  Battle  of  Marathon.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  give  an  idea  of  the  enthusiasm 
which  the  sight  of  this  picture  excited  ;  its  chief  person- 
ages were  portraits  of  striking  resemblance. 

The  celebrated  Polygnote  appeared  about  the  same 
time,  that  is,  four  hundred  and  fifty  years  before  the 
Christian  era.  This  painter  was  born  at  Thasos,  an 
island  in  the  -ZEgean  Sea.  He  studied  under  the  best 
masters,  but  dissatisfied  with  their  teachings,  declined 
following  them,  and  devoted  himself  entirely  to  the  study 
of  nature.  He  ornamented  the  porticoes  of  Athens  with 
paintings  of  subjects  from  episodes  of  the  siege  of  Troy. 

For  this  beautiful  work  the  Athenians  offered  him 
considerable  sums,  which  he  generously  refused,  saying, 
that  since  he  had  been  so  happy  as  to  obtain  the  ap- 
plause of  an  enlightened  people  like  those  of  Athens,  he 
had  nothing  more  to  desire. 

This  answer  was  carried  to  the  tribunal  of  the  Arn- 
phictyons,  and  the  tribunal  ordered,  by  a  decree  which 
was  solemnly  promulgated,  that  Polygnote  should  be 
lodged  in  the  State  Palace,  nourished  at  the  public  ex- 
pense, exempted  from  taxes  during  his  whole  life,  and 
that  every  city  in  Greece,  where  he  should  choose  to  go, 
should  receive  him  with  honor,  and  entertain  him  mag- 
nificently. "The  Chiefs  of  the  State,"  said  this  decree, 


PAINTERS.  (J7 

"  reiga  by  force,  but  the  artist  reigns  by  his  talent ;  then 
it  is  just  to  render  more  homage  to  him  who  owes 
everything  to  his  own  merit,  than  to  those  elevated  to 
power  by  force  of  circumstances." 

Polygnote,  so  worthily  recompensed,  worked  with 
new  ardor,  and  perfected  himself  daily.  At  that  time 
they  painted  in  encaustic,  or  wax,  upon  ivory  and  wood. 
The  colors  for  this  kind  of  painting  were  laid  on  while 
warm,  and  lasted,  without  alteration,  for  many  centuries. 
If  we  may  believe  the  historian,  the  beauty  of  the  pic- 
ture of  the  Sacking  of  Troy,  by  Polygnote,  would  have 
been  preserved  during  nine  hundred  years  ;  and  it  would 
have  braved  the  outrages  of  time  still  longer,  if  it  had 
not  been  destroyed  at  Constantinople. 

Apollodorus,  who  was  celebrated  at  Athens  some 
time  after  Polygnote,  gave  a  great  impetus  to  painting : 
he  was  the  first  who  joined  the  understanding  of  color 
and  the  science  of  foreshortening  to  correct  drawing. 
His  paintings  were  true  to  nature,  and  he  gave  the  ap- 
pearance of  movement  and  life  to  the  scenes  which  he 
represented.  He  studied  the  distribution  of  light  and 
shade  with  extreme  care,  and  left  the  works  of  all  his 
predecessors  far  behind  him.  In  the  time  of  Pliny,  there 
were  two  pictures  by  Apollodorus,  at  Pergamos  :  an 
Ajax  destroyed  by  Minerva,  and  a  Priest  at  prayer; 
both  these  pictures  are  regarded  as  chefs-d'oeuvre. 

Apollodorus  had  many  disciples,  the  most  illustrious 
of  whom  was  Zeuxis,  who  was  to  surpass  his  master. 
7 


98  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

He  was  not  slow  in  discovering  the  wonderful  ability  of 
his  pupil,  and  the  success  of  the  young  man  embittered 
his  last  days.  Excited  by  blind  jealousy,  Apollodorus 
laid  down  his  pencil  for  the  pen,  and  published  a  satire 
against  Zeuxis,  in  which  he  accused  him  of  having  stolen 
his  talent  from  him  :  this  satire  served  only  to  enhance 
the  reputation  of  the  artist  to  whom  Apollodorus  ren- 
dered such  brilliant  homage. 


ZEUXIS.  —  AEISTIDES. 

Zeuxis  was  born  at  Heraclius  :  he  was  naturally  gifted 
with  a  taste  for  the  arts,  particularly  for  painting.  A 
pupil  of  Apollodorus,  he  soon  equalled  his  master,  and 
discovering  new  processes,  his  works  were  sought  in 
preference  to  those  of  Apollodorus.  An  artist  seldom 
sees  the  pupil  whom  he  has  taught  surpass  him,  and 
diminish  the  splendor  of  his  name,  without  bitterness  of 
feeling.  Apollodorus  used  his  poetical  talent  in  decry- 
ing Zeuxis,  who  did  not  trouble  himself  to  reply  to  the 
railleries  and  injuries  of  his  master. 

"If  I  were  not  the  most  able,"  said  he,  "I  should  be 
less  hated ;  his  hatred  is  the  most  sincere  homage  which 
my  talent  could  desire." 

The  satire  of  Apollodorus  served  only  to  draw  the  at- 
tention of  all  Greece  to  the  masterpieces  of  Zeuxis,  and 
happy  was  he  who  possessed  one  of  them.  Connoisseurs 


PAINTERS.  99 

admired  the  purity  of  design,  the  truthfulness  of  color- 
ing, and  the  grace  of  posture  to  which  no  other  painter 
had  attained,  and  purchased  his  pictures,  actually  cover- 
ing them  with  gold.  In  a  few  years  Zeuxis  possessed 
an  immense  fortune,  and  was  surrounded  with  the  lux- 
uries of  a  prince.  He  dressed  in  purple,  and  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  retinue  of  servants  when  he  went  out.  At 
the  Olympic  games,  his  slaves  were  conspicuous  by  the 
magnificence  of  their  attire,  upon  which  the  name  of  the 
great  artist,  to  whom  they  had  the  honor  of  belonging, 
was  embroidered  in  letters  of  gold. 

Zeuxis  now  declared  that  he  would  sell  no  more  of 
his  pictures  ;  that  no  one  was  rich  enough  to  pay  the 
value  of  them.  However,  it  is  said  that  when  he  made 
a  present  of  a  picture  to  a  friend,  he  first  put  it  on 
exhibition  in  his  studio,  and  required  payment  from 
those  who  came  to  admire  it. 

Zeuxis  worked  slowly ;  he  would  never  allow  any  pic- 
ture to  be  criticised  which  he  did  not  think  worthy  of 
his  high  reputation.  Some  one  having  expressed  as- 
tonishment at  the  length  of  time  he  required,  while 
ordinary  artists  painted  so  rapidly,  Zeuxis  replied,  — 

"  It  is  because  I  work  for  immortality." 

He  did  not  deceive  himself,  for  his  glory  has  come 
down  to  our  times. 

The  great  artists  were  generally  conscious  of  their  tal- 
ents ;  and  if  modesty  has  enhanced  the  merits  of  many 
of  them,  it  is  not  in  pagan  antiquity  that  their  names 


100  THE   PKINCES    OF   ART. 

are  to  be  found.  Zeuxis  did  not  believe  that  any  painter 
could  compete  with  him,  and  he  wrote  below  one  of  his 
pictures,  which  represented  an  athlete,  "It  will  be 
easier  to  criticise  than  to  imitate  this." 

Yet  he  was  not  the  only  artist  of  which  Greece  was 
proud :  Timanthes  shone  in  Sicyon,  Aristides  in  Thebes, 
Parrhasius  in  Ephesus,  and  Pamphylis  in  Macedonia. 

Parrhasius  enjoyed  an  immense  reputation,  and  was 
considered  a  king  among  painters.  Zeuxis,  on  his  part, 
claimed  the  same  title,  and  it  was  agreed  that  each  of 
them  should  submit  the  work  which  he  considered  as  his 
best,  to  the  examination  of  judges  chosen  from  both 
sides,  and  that  a  jury  should  decide. 

Zeuxis  excelled  in  the  imitation  of  nature,  and  painted 
flowers  and  fruits  exquisitely.  He  offered  a  picture  for 
examination,  which  represented  a  child  carrying  upon 
its  head  a  basket  of  grapes.  This  work  was  no  sooner 
exposed  on  the  place  where  the  judges  were  assembled, 
than  the  birds  came  to  peck  at  the  finely  painted  fruit. 
The  multitude  burst  into  loud  acclamations  of  applause, 
and  Zeuxis,  sure  of  the  victory,  received  the  felicitations 
of  his  friends.  Parrhasius  admired  the  talent  of  his 
adversary ;  but  he  did  not  despair  of  success,  and  stood 
silent  near  his  picture.  A  curtain  of  a  light  and  silky 
stuff  covered  his  work,  and  every  one  was  impatient  to 
see  it  drawn  aside. 

Zeuxis,  a  little  annoyed  by  the  calmness  of  Parrhasius, 
tore  himself  away  from  the  compliments  of  his  party, 
and  went  towards  him,  saying,  — 


PAINTERS.  101 

"  Why  do  you  delay  letting  us  see  your  chef-d'oeuvre  9 
Draw  the  curtain." 

"  This  curtain  is  my  picture ;  "  replied  Parrhasius. 

Zeuxis  did  not  believe  him,  and  stretched  forth  his 
hand  to  draw  the  light  curtain  aside. 

"I  am  conquered!"  cried  he,  recognizing  his  error. 
"  I  have  deceived  only  birds ;  but  Parrhasius  has  de- 
ceived me." 

Zeuxis  never  forgot  this  defeat ;  and  when  his  friends 
wished  to  console  him,  by  saying  that  one  must  be  a 
great  artist  to  deceive  the  instinct  of  the  birds,  he 
replied,  — 

"  If  my  picture  had  been  as  good  as  you  pretend,  the 
sight  of  the  child  who  carries  the  basket  of  grapes  would 
have  frightened  away  the  greedy  birds." 

This  reflection  appeared  as  just  to  his  friends  as  to  him- 
self. But  the  victory  of  Parrhasius  did  not  detract  from 
the  general  admiration  of  the  paintings  of  Zeuxis. 

The  city  of  Agrigentum  sent  a  deputation  to  him, 
begging  him  to  paint  a  portrait  of  Helen.  Zeuxis  con- 
sented, on  condition  that  they  should  select  a  model  for 
him  from  among  the  most  beautiful  girls  in  Agrigentum. 
The  Agrigentines  found  it  very  difficult  to  choose,  and 
therefore  conducted  to  Athens  all  those  who  appeared  to 
have  a  right  to  the  preference.  Zeuxis  retained  five 
of  them,  and  taking  whatever  was  most  perfect  from 
each,  composed  a  magnificent  picture,  which  was  con- 
sidered his  chef-d'oeuvre. 


102  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

Zeuxis,  as  we  have  said,  imitated  nature  marvellous- 
ly ;  but  he  was  less  successful  in  rendering  the  senti- 
ments and  the  passions  of  the  soul, —  a  talent  absolutely 
necessary  to  the  painter  who  desires  to  please  and  to. 
touch  the  feelings. 

Aristides  of  Thebes,  inferior  to  Zeuxis  in  regard  to 
the  elegance  and  finish  of  his  pictures,  excelled  him 
very  much  in  expression.  Zeuxis  spoke  to  the  eyes, 
Aristides  to  the  soul.  If  Aristides  painted  a  sick  per- 
son ,  the  beholder  was  moved  to  pity  his  sufferings ;  a 
beggar,  he  was  tempted  to  offer  him  alms ;  in  short,  he 
animated  his  subjects.  Pliny  speaks  of  a  picture  in 
which  the  artist  represented  the  pillaging  of  a  city.  In 
the  foreground  a  woman,  struck  in  the  breast  by  a 
poniard,  lay  in  the  agonies  of  death.  A  little  child, 
fallen  at  her  side,  was  groping  towards  her  to  seek  its 
ordinary  nourishment.  The  poor  woman  seemed  to  look 
at  it  with  pity  and  affright,  for  it  was  not  her  milk,  but 
her  blood,  that  he  was  about  to  suck.  The  engross- 
ment of  her  mind,  her  maternal  anguish  in  the  face  of 
death,  whose  merciless  grasp  she  felt,  the  heart-rending 
farewell  look  she  cast  upon  the  infant,  all  these  impres- 
sions were  so  truthfully  rendered,  that  those  who  stopped 
to  look  at  the  picture  were  moved  to  tears,  or  to  curse 
the  war  which  brought  such  grief  in  its  train. 

If  Aristides  had  been  more  careful  in  coloring,  if  his 
pencillings  had  been  softer,  or  not  so  austere,  few  paint- 
ers could  have  equalled  him.  These  faults  did  not  pre- 


PAINTERS.  103 

vent  his  having  a  glorious  career,  and  his  pictures  were 
so  highly  valued,  that  he  was  paid  ninety  thousand  francs 
for  his  Combat  against  the  Persians. 

There  were  many  of  his  paintings  in  the  city  of  Coi*- 
inth,  when  it  was  taken  by  the  Romans.  At  this  period 
the  masters  of  the  world  were  very  ignorant  in  matters 
of  art :  Attains,  king  of  Pergamos,  having  offered  a 
considerable  sum  for  one  of  these  pictures,  the  consul 
Muinmius  imagined  that  there  must  be  some  magic  vir- 
tue in  the  picture,  and  refused  to  let  him  have  it.  The 
soldiers,  knowing  no  more  of  the  value  of  paintings  than 
the  consul,  broke  the  chefs-d'oeuvre  without  remorse,  or 
used  them  for  tables  on  which  to  play  with  dice. 

But  to  return  to  Zeuxis,  whom  we  have  for  an  in- 
stant forgotten.  This  painter  worked  many  years,  and 
always  with  good  success.  If  we  can  believe  Verrius 
Flaccus,  it  was  his  talent  which  cost  him  his  life.  Look- 
ing at  the  portrait,  or  rather  the  caricature  of  an  old 
woman  which  he  had  painted,  he  burst  into  such  an  im- 
moderate fit  of  laughter  as  to  cause  his  death. 


PARBHASIUS.  —  TIMANTHES. 

Parrhasius,  son  of  the  painter  Evenor,  was  for  a  short 
time  the  pupil  of  his  father ;  but,  when  finding  that  he 
could  learn  nothing  more  of  him,  he  consulted  only  his 
own  genius,  and  made  rapid  progress  in  drawing :  he 


104  THE    PKINCES    OF   ART. 

studied  proportions  carefully,  and  exceeded  his  pred- 
ecessors in  correctness  of  features.  Under  Socrates  he 
learned  the  expressions  which  ordinarily  characterize 
profound  affections,  or  lively  sentiments  of  the  soul,  and 
was  intent  upon  rendering  them  truthfully.  His  fig- 
ures were  elegant ;  his  touches  wise  and  sprightly ;  his 
pencil  easy  and  graceful. 

The  fortune  of  Parrhasius  soon  equalled  his  celebrity, 
and  his  opulence  exceeded  that  of  Zeuxis.  He  had  so 
great  an  opinion  of  his  own  talent,  that  he  never  spoke 
of  himself  without  the  greatest  eulogiums,  never  went 
out  unless  dressed  in  purple  and  crowned  with  gold, 
and  thought  that  no  one  in  the  world  could  pretend  to 
equal  him. 

His  victory  over  Zeuxis  only  increased  his  pride,  and 
an  assembly  of  painters  meeting  at  Samos,  he  presented 
himself,  sure  of  excelling  all  his  rivals.  The  subject 
given  was  the  indignation  of  Ajax  at  seeing  the  arms  of 
Achilles  awarded  to  Ulysses. 

The  picture  of  Parrhasius  was  magnificent ;  but  that 
of  Timanthes  of  Sicyon  bore  off  the  palm.  Parrhasius 
would  not  acknowledge  himself  vanquished,  as  Zeuxis 
had  done  a  few  years  previous. 

"I  pity  Ajax,"  said  he,  to  one  of  his  friends;  "see 
him  conquered  a  second  time  by  an  adversary  unworthy 
of  him." 

Parrhasius  was  wrong  in  denying  the  merit  of  his 
rival,  for  Timanthes  was  one  of  the  most  illustrious  paint- 


w  l( 

^dintv&$\ 

PAINTERS.  105 

ers  of  antiquity.  He  was  gifted  with  great  genius,  to 
which  all  historians  have  rendered  justice,  and  all  have 
considered  his  picture  of  Iphigenia  as  a  masterpiece. 

In  this  composition,  Tirnanthes  represented  Iphigeni^ 
adorned  with  all  the  graces  of  youth,  all  the  nobleness 
of  a  brave  and  generous  soul,  and  that  aureole  of  sub- 
lime devotion  on  the  brow,  together  with  all  the  melan- 
choly charm  which  the  approach  of  a  cruel  death  could 
shed  upon  the  physiognomy  of  a  young  girl.  Calchas, 
calm  and  majestic  in  his  grief,  stood  near  the  altar, 
ready  to  accomplish  the  sacrifice  required  by  the  gods. 
Profound  sadness  was  imprinted  upon  the  countenances 
of  Ajax  and  the  other  personages  present  at  the  scene ; 
but  nothing  could  compare  with  the  heart-rending  deso- 
lation of  Menelaus,  uncle  of  the  princess.  Thus  far  the 
artist  had  a  right  to  be  proud  of  his  work ;  he  had  suc- 
ceeded marvellously ;  but  he  had  yet  to  paint  the  des- 
pair of  Agamemnon.  Understanding  that  he  could  not 
succeed  in  expressing  the  tortures  of  the  father  about  to 
sacrifice  that  which  he  loved  most  in  the  world,  the 
beautiful  and  delicate  Iphigenia,  his  pride,  his  hope,  his 
only  joy,  for  the  salvation  of  the  army,  Timanthes  had 
the  ingenuity  to  cover  the  face  of  the  unhappy  prince 
with  a  veil,  and  leave  the  affected  spectator  to  imagine 
this  immense  and  terrible  grief. 

This  is  a  proof  of  genius,  because  the  artist  leaves 
infinitely  more  to  imagination  than  it  would  have  been 
possible  to  express.  Succeeding  artists  have  taken  ad- 


106  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

vantage  of  this  idea,  and  the  great  French  painter 
Poussin  did  not  fear  to  make  use  of  it  in  his  picture  of 
Grermanicus. 

We  cannot  help  thinking  that  the  judgment  of  Par- 
rhasius,  in  regard  to  the  picture  of  his  adversary,  was 
governed  by  a  spitefulness  which  rendered  him  unjust. 
However,  new  successes  speedily  consoled  him  for  this 
defeat.  He  painted  an  allegorical  picture  for  the  Athe- 
nians which  gained  him  universal  applause.  It  is  well 
known  that  no  people  were  so  unstable  as  the  Athenians, 
now  proud  and  haughty,  then  timid  and  humble ;  to-day 
full  of  humanity  and  clemency,  to-morrow  savage,  vin- 
dictive, and  cruel.  The  talent  by  which  Parrhasius 
succeeded  in  representing  this  fickleness  in  its  various 
phases,  set  a  seal  upon  his  reputation. 

The  greatest  reproach  that  can  be  made  to  this  artist 
is,  that  he  was  inordinately  proud  of  his  talent.  It  is 
true  that  he  has  been  accused  of  cruelly  torturing  to  death 
a  slave,  whom  he  bought  at  the  taking  of  Olynthus,  by 
Philip,  king  of  Macedon,  that  he  might  have  a  truth- 
ful representation  from  which  to  paint  the  agonies  of 
Prometheus  while  a  vulture  was  gnawing  his  vitals. 
But  we  should  remember  that  proofs  are  needed  for  such 
a  story ;  and  as  there  are  none,  we  prefer  to  believe  that 
Parrhasius  was  indebted  to  his  talent  for  the  skill  with 
which  he  rendered  the  sufferings  of  Prometheus,  rather 
than  to  the  sight  of  tortures  inflicted  upon  his  slave. 

Similar  acts  of  cruelty  have  been  imputed  to  modern 


PAINTERS.  107 

artists,  among  them  Michael  Angelo ;  but  as  their 
entire  life  discredits  such  deeds,  why  may  we  not  sup- 
pose that  Parrhasius  has  likewise  been  unjustly  ac- 
cused. 

Some  time  after  the  death  of  Parrhasius  and  Timan- 
thes,  the  Greek  school  was  divided  into  two  factions ; 
the  school  of  Athens  and  that  of  Sicyon,  which  Apelles 
has  imortalized. 

APELLES. 

Apelles,  the  most  illustrious  of  the  painters  of  an- 
tiquity, was  born  in  the  island  of  Cos,  three  hundred 
and  thirty  two  years  before  the  Christian  era.  Pithius, 
his  father,  finding  that  he  had  great  taste  for  the  arts, 
sent  him  to  Ephesus  to  learn  painting  of  Ephorus,  who 
had  a  considerable  number  of  pupils. 

Apelles  made  such  rapid  progress  as  to  astonish  his 
teacher.  Not  only  did  he  possess  great  facility  for 
learning,  but  he  was  also  extremely  industrious.  He 
would  have  considered  a  day  lost  in  which  he  had  not 
made  marked  progress.  Such  a  disposition  would  suf- 
fice to  enable  a  young  man  of  medium  ability  to  make 
himself  superior ;  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  Apelles,  so 
gifted  by  nature,  should  soon  be  obliged  to  seek  a  higher 
school  than  that  of  Ephorus. 

At  that  time  Pamphilus,  of  Amphipolis,  directed  the 
most  celebrated  school  of  Greece.  He  was  learned  in 


108  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

the  sciences,  in  literature  and  the  arts  ;  but  painting  was 
his  specialty.  It  was  considered  a  great  honor  to  be 
admitted  among  his  pupils  ;  and  although  he  required  an 
engagement  often  years,  and  the  payment  of  one  talent, 
that  is,  five  thousand  and  four  hundred  francs,  French 
money,  the  number  of  young  people  who  presented 
themselves  was  so  great  that  Pamphilus  was  obliged  to 
refuse  money. 

Painting  was  most  esteemed  among  the  liberal  arts, 
and  every  family  was  anxious  that  some  of  their  children 
should  learn  it.  The  right  to  learn  painting  was  reg- 
ulated by  a  decree  of  the  state,  which  permitted  those  of 
the  highest  rank,  then  those  young  people  of  families  in 
easy  circumstances ;  but  formally  interdicted  the  priv- 
ilege to  slaves. 

Apelles  presented  himself  at  the  school  of  Pamphilus, 
who,  satisfied  with  his  examination,  gladly  received  him 
upon  his  accepting  the  condition  of  remaining  ten  years. 
Correct  and  elegant  drawing,  a  noble  and  bold  touch, 
and  above  all,  an  inimitable  grace,  made  the  productions 
of  Apelles  so  many  chefs-d'oeuvre. 

The  young  painter  had  acquired  a  great  reputation 
before  he  left  the  school  of  Pamphilus  for  that  of  Sicyon, 
which  was  thought  to  excel  all  others  in  the  truly 
beautiful.  Apelles  perfected  himself  there,  and  his  name 
was  celebrated  throughout  Greece. 

So  faithful  were  his  delineations  of  nature,  that  she 
seemed  to  guide  his  pencil.  He  seized  her  slightest 


PAINTERS.  109 

expressions,  her  faintest  shades,  and  reproduced  them  with 
an  inexpressible  charm.  He  was  endowed  with  an  in- 
ventive genius,  arranged  his  personages  with  taste,  and 
knew  how  to  spread  the  charm  of  poetry  over  all  his 
compositions. 

Although  he  used  but  four  colors,  they  were  true, 
vivid,  and  brilliant.  The  composition  of  the  varnish 
which  he  used  has  never  been  known :  Pliny  says  that 
its  essential  properties  were  to  render  the  colors  smooth- 
er and  softer,  to  improve  the  appearance  of  the  painting, 
and  to  preserve  it  from  dust.  The  secret  of  making 
this  varnish,  of  which  Apelles  was  the  inventor,  died 
with  him,  and  was  only  replaced,  centuries  after,  by  the 
discovery  which  John  Van  Eyck  made  of  painting  in  oil. 

Apelles  was  not  unconscious  of  his  own  rare  merit  : 
but,  wiser  than  Parrhasius,  he  admitted  that  of  others 
without  jealousy,  and,  persuaded  that  man  has  always 
something  to  learn,  he  was  grateful  to  the  visitors  of  his 
studio  for  their  advice  and  suggestions.  Finding  these 
suggestions  occasionally  useful,  he  placed  each  picture 
on  exhibition,  as  it  was  finished,  that  the  public  might 
freely  praise  or  criticise.  Concealed  behind  a  curtain, 
he  listened  to  what  they  said,  enjoying  the  disinterested 
praises  accorded  to  him,  and  improving  by  such  criti- 
cisms as  he  found  to  be  just. 

One  day,  a  shoemaker,  who,  like  others,  stopped 
before  a  picture  thus  exposed,  observed  that  something 
was  wanting  in  the  sandal  of  one  of  the  personages,  and 


110  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

spoke  of  it ;  Apelles,  knowing  that  the  shoemaker  was  a 
better  judge  than  he,  corrected  the  fault.  The  next 
day,  the  same  picture  being  on  exhibition,  the  shoe- 
maker, very  proud  at  seeing  that  his  criticism  was  ac- 
cepted, thought  himself  a  man  of  talent,  and  began  to 
criticise  the  leg  to  which  the  sandal  belonged.  But 
Apelles,  coming  forward,  and  striking  him  on  the  shoul- 
der, said  to  him,  "  Ne  sutor  ultra  crepidam."  (The  shoe- 
maker must  not  go  beyond  his  last. )  These  words  havo 
been  rendered  proverbial  by  the  fables  of  Phaedrus. 

Apelles,  desirous  of  seeing  celebrated  painters,  went 
to  Rhodes,  where  Protogenes  lived.  This  illustrious 
artist  was  absent  when  Apelles  called  at  his  studio. 
Apelles  amused  himself  by  sketching  upon  canvas  where 
a  picture  was  already  .commenced.  Protogenes,  who 
did  not  expect  a  visit  from  Apelles,  exclaimed,  when  he 
saw  the  drawing,  "  Apelles  has  been  here  !  "  So  true 
it  is  that  a  single  line  betrays  a  great  master.  Proto- 
genes added  lines  still  more  perfect  to  the  sketch ;  but 
when  the  illustrious  visitor  carne  again,  he  surpassed  his 
previous  work.  Protogenes,  filled  with  admiration, 
proclaimed  him  the  greatest  painter  in  the  world,  and 
swore  eternal  friendship  with  him. 

From  this  time  these  two  great  men  professed  the 
highest  esteem  and  most  disinterested  affection  for  each 
other.  The  friendship  which  unites  two  artists  of  em- 
inent talent,  and  excites  a  noble  emulation  between  them, 
defies  hatred  and  envy.  This  friendship  is  as  beautiful 


PAINTERS.  Ill 

as  it  is  rare  ;  unfortunately,  men  of  genius,  who  seem  so 
well  constituted  to  understand  each  other,  often  allow 
pride  and  the  immoderate  desire  of  glory  to  take  posses- 
sion of  their  hearts  ;  unwilling  that  another  should  share 
in  this  glory,  they  sacrifice  every  noble  and  generous 
feeling,  and  their  rival  becomes  almost  their  enemy. 

Alexander  the  Great,  having  seen  the  beautiful  works 
of  Apelles,  chose  him  for  his  painter,  and  forbade  any 
other  to  take  his  likeness.  The  first  portrait  which  the 
artist  made  of  this  prince  was  an  Alexander  the  Thun- 
derer, which  was  proclaimed  a  chef-d'oeuvre,  par  excel- 
lence. The  hand  which  held  the  thunderbolt  was  par- 
ticularly admired  it  was  so  finely  painted  that  it  seemed 
to  come  out  from  the  clouds  by  which  it  was  surround- 
ed. Alexander  was  in  ecstasy;  he  loaded  the  painter 
with  riches,  and  honored  him  with  his  friendship.  He 
took  pleasure  in  going  to  see  him  paint,  and  in  convers- 
ing with  him  upon  the  secrets  of  his  art. 

The  picture  of  Alexander  the  Thunderer  having 
been  placed  in  the  temple  of  Diana,  at  Ephesus,  the 
conqueror  wished  to  have  another  portrait,  and  begged 
Apelles  to  paint  him  mounted  upon  Bucephalus ;  to 
which  the  artist  consented.  When  the  picture  was 
finished,  Alexander  was  not  so  well  satisfied  as  with  the 
first,  and  complained  that  his  beautiful  battle-horse  was 
not  well  represented.  Apelles,  who  was  quite  satisfied 
with  the  horse,  was  about  to  try  to  prove  to  the  king  that 
he  was  mistaken,  when  a  mare,  passing  near  where  the 


112  THE    PlilNCES   OF  ART. 

picture  stood,  stopped  before  the  horse,  and  began  to 
neigh.  The  painter  turned  to  Alexander,  and  said,  — 

"  Shall  this  animal  be  a  better  judge  of  painting  than 
the  King  of  Macedon  ?  " 

Alexander,  smiling,  gave  his  hand  to  the  artist :  after 
such  a  proof,  Bucephalus  could  not  fail  of  being  perfect. 

While  the  conqueror  lived,  Apelles  enjoyed  his  affec- 
tion and  kindness.  Great  princes  have  always  honored 
artists,  and  the  glory  which  they  have  received  from 
them  has  often  been  more  durable  than  that  of  their 
conquests. 

After  the  death  of  Alexander,  Apelles  went  to  Egypt, 
and  lived  for  a  time  at  the  court  of  Ptolemy.  This 
prince  did  not  accord  him  the  friendly  protection  which 
Alexander  had  done.  Envy,  which  creeps  about  thrones 
to  prevent  the  approach  of  talent  and  merit,  was  fright- 
ened at  the  reception  of  the  Greek  painter  by  Ptolemy. 
He  must  be  sent  away,  cost  what  it  would,  for  they  had 
as  much  to  fear  from  his  uprightness  as  from  his  great 
genius.  They  accused  him  of  having  entered  into  a 
conspiracy  to  murder  the  king.  It  was  in  vain  that 
Apelles  defended  himself,  setting  forth  the  guarantee  of 
a  pure  life,  wholly  consecrated  to  the  culture  of  art; 
his  opponents  had  too  much  interest  at  stake  to  allow 
his  voice  to  be  heard,  and  he  was  about  to  be  con- 
demned, when  the  real  conspirators  were  discovered. 

Apelles  hastened  from  this  inhospitable  court,  and 
went  to  Ephesus,  where,  under  the  influence  of  a  soul 


PAINTERS.  113 

filled  with  indignation  at  the  mean  and  cruel  conduct  of 
his  enemies,  he  painted  the  best  known  of  mVworks  —  the 
picture  of  Calumny. 

He  died  soon  after,  never  having  seen  his  sublime 
talent  grow  dim,  nor  having  met  a  rival  who  could  be 
preferred  to  him. 

Apelles  left  three  treatises  relative  to  art,  which  exist- 
ed in  the  time  of  Pliny,  and  in  which  he  gives  details 
upon  the  study  of  the  passions  and  sentiments  expressed 
in  the  human  face ;  upon  the  science  of  position ;  upon 
the  manner  of  seizing  resemblances ;  and  finally,  upon 
the  profile.  It  is  said  that  he  was  the  first  who  made  use 
of  profile.  According  to  Pliny,  he  invented  it  to  conceal 
the  deformity  of  Antigonus,  who  had  but  one  eye,  and 
who  requested  him  to  paint  his  portrait. 

The  portrait  of  Antigonus  on  Horseback,  Venus  An- 
adyomenes,  —  that  is  to  say,  coming  out  of  the  water,  — 
and  Diana  in  the  Midst  of  a  Choir  of  Virgins,  are  the 
most  highly  esteemed  of  the  great  master's  works,  after 
the  Calumny. 

The  ancients  have  given  the  following  description  of 
this  picture :  — 

A  man  with  long  ears,  similar  to  those  of  Midas,  is 
seated  on  the  right  hand  of  the  composition  ;  he  extends 
his  hand  to  Accusation,  who  is  approaching  from  a  dis- 
tance ;  near  him  are  two  females,  one  of  whom  appears 
to  be  Ignorance,  the  other  Suspicion.  Accusation 
comes  forward  under  the  form  of  a  perfectly  beautiful 
8 


114  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

woman ;  her  face  is  red,  and  she  appears  to  be  violently 
agitated  and  excited  with  anger :  in  one  hand  she  holds 
a  burning  torch  ;  with  the  other  she  drags  a  young  man 
by  the  hair  of  his  head,  while  he  lifts  his  hands  to  heaven. 
A  pale  and  disfigured  man  acts  as  her  conductor ;  his 
sombre  and  fixed  appearance  and  his  extreme  leanness 
make  him  resemble  those  sick  persons  who  are  atten- 
uated by  long  abstinence :  he  is  easily  recognized  as 
Envy.  Two  other  women  accompany  Accusation,  en- 
couraging her,  arranging  her  vesture  and  caring  for 
her  ornaments  :  one  is  Deceit,  the  other  Perfidy  :  these 
are  followed  in  the  distance  by  a  woman,  whose  sadness 
and  black  and  torn  garments  announce  Repentance ;  she 
turns  her  head,  sheds  tears,  and  is  confused  at  seeing 
tardy  Truth  advancing. 


PROTOGENES. 

Protogenes  was  born  about  the  year  350  before  the 
Christian  era,  at  Caune,  a  city  situated  upon  the  southerly 
side  of  the  Island  of  Rhodes.  Nothing  is  known  of  his 
infancy  or  youth,  except  that  he  passed  them  in  poverty  : 
we  do  not  even  know  the  name  of  the  master  who  taught 
him  painting.  Without  doubt  it  was  some  obscure 
painter,  whose  lessons,  without  the  aid  of  the  genius 
with  which  nature  had  endowed  Protogenes,  would  have 
failed  to  produce  fruits. 


PAINTERS.  115 

Passionately  fond  of  labor,  but  never  willing  to  leave 
a  work  which  he  thought  he  could  improve,  the  young 
artist  remained  many  years  unknown.  At  the  age  of 
fifty  years,  Protogenea  was  employed,  in  subordination 
to  another,  in  the  decoration  of  the  magnificent  vessels 
which  the  Greeks  enriched  with  painting  and  sculpture  : 
the  work  was  admired,  and  he  was  better  paid  than  he 
had  hitherto  been,  besides  having  leisure  to  paint  sub- 
jects of  his  own  choice. 

He  painted  some  charming  little  pictures,  and  por- 
traits of  striking  resemblance  and  fine  finish.  These 
pictures  and  portraits  were  the  commencement  of  his  for- 
tune and  his  reputation ;  but  Protogenes  saw  only  one 
point  in  this  fortune  and  reputation ;  namely,  liberty  to 
study  art  without  the  distraction  of  material  preoccupa- 
tion. 

Aristotle,  who  was  very  fond  of  this  artist,  and  ap- 
preciated his  talent,  advised  him  to  leave  the  simple 
things  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  painting,  and  under- 
take some  great  composition.  The  philosopher  wished 
Alexander,  his  august  pupil,  to  choose  Protogenes  to 
represent  the  victories  which  have  rendered  him  im- 
mortal ;  but  Protogenes,  who  knew  the  danger  of  for- 
cing genius,  would  not  suffer  himself  to  be  seduced  by 
the  brilliant  hopes  with  which  Aristotle  tried  to  inspire 
him,  and  preferred  to  obey  his  own  inspirations  :  how- 
ever, Aristotle  continued  to  urge  him,  until  he  at  length 
consented  to  undertake  a  battle-piece. 


116  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

Protogenes  joined  much  delicacy  and  energy  to  cor- 
rect drawing.  His  picture  representing  the  Hunter 
Jalysus  is  considered  his  best  piece.  He  worked  upon 
it  seven  years,  living  only  upon  vegetables  and  water, 
fearing  that  the  use  of  meats  and  wine  would  weaken 
his  mind  and  make  his  hand  unsteady.  At  the  end  of 
seven  years,  he  considered  the  principal  figure  only  as 
finished  ;  the  others  appeared  to  him  very  imperfect ;  but 
that  which  chiefly  occupied  him  was  the  dog  of  Jalysus. 
In  vain  those  who  saw  the  picture  expatiated  upon  the 
beauty  of  the  dog ;  Protogenes  was  not  satisfied  with  it. 
He  wished  to  represent  it  as  panting,  the  mouth  foam- 
ing, and  he  had  not  succeeded.  The  more  praise  he 
received,  the  more  he  wished  to  make  it  as  perfect  as 
possible.  He  set  himself  to  work  with  renewed  ardor, 
and  passed  several  days  in  trying  to  make  the  dog  as  he 
wished  it ;  but,  notwithstanding  his  talent  and  patience, 
his  efforts  were  unsatisfactory.  Despairing  of  success, 
he  effaced,  for  the  hundredth  time,  perhaps,  the  foam, 
which  he  could  not  imitate,  and  in  a  fit  of  vexation, 
threw  his  sponge,  wet  with  the  color  he  had  just  removed, 
at  the  dog's  mouth.  What  did  he  care  if  he  spoiled  the 
picture,  since  he  could  not  make  it  what  he  desired? 

But  O,  joy !  chance  had  done  for  him  what  art  had 
failed  to  do  :  now  it  was  like  real  foam  coming  from  the 
jaws  of  Jalysus'  brave  companion,  and  difficult  as  Pro- 
togenes had  been  to  be  satisfied,  he  now  asked  no  more. 

When  Apelles  saw  this  picture,  he  cried  out,  "The 


PAINTERS.  117 

genius  of  man  has  never  produced  anything  more  wonder- 
ful !  "  He  was  extremely  surprised  to  learn  that  these 
beautiful  works  received  but  little  admiration,  and  that 
the  Khodians  could  not  appreciate  them.  He  then 
offered  to  buy  all  the  pictures  which  Protogenes  should 
make,  since  his  fellow-countrymen  did  not  care  to  keep 
the  works  of  an  artist  who  was  an  honor  to  his  country. 
However,  it  was  not  necessary  to  accept  this  generous 
offer ;  for  the  Rhodians,  having  heard  what  Apelles  said 
of  the  talent  of  Protogenes,  opened  their  eyes,  and  pro- 
claimed him  truly  illustrious  :  they  bought  his  pictures 
to  prevent  their  ornamenting  the  palaces  of  foreign 
princes.  They  paid  a  great  price  for  the  Hunter  Jalysus, 
the  hunter  passing  for  the  grandson  of  the  Sun,  and 
the  founder  of  Rhodes. 

Protogenes  was  unwilling  to  deliver  this  picture  with- 
out retouching  it,  and  it  was  not  completed  when  he 
heard  that  Demetrius  Poliorcetes  was  about  to  besiege 
Rhodes.  This  news  caused  him  to  redouble  his  zeal,  so 
that  if  anything  should  happen  to  him,  his  picture  might 
be  completed.  The  painter  lived  in  a  suburban  town, 
which  was  soon  invaded  by  the  enemy's  troops ;  but 
neither  the  noise  of  arms,  nor  the  interruption  of  the 
soldiers,  who  came  into  his  studio,  could  disturb  him 
for  a  moment. 

Demetrius,  hearing  that  a  Rhodian  continued  to  paint 
as  if  all  was  quiet  about  him  in  the  midst  of  the  perplex- 
ities of  the  siege,  thought  that  the  Rhodian  must  be 
Protogenes,  and  wished  to  see  him. 


118  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

Demetrius  called  him  by  name,  and  after  having  paid 
a  just  tribute  of  admiration  to  his  works,  asked  him  how 
he  could  be  sufficiently  composed  to  paint,  surrounded 
as  he  was  by  danger. 

"I  knew,"  said  the  painter,  "that  you  wage  war 
against  the  Khodians,  and  not  against  the  fine  arts." 

The  prince,  pleased  with  this  answer,  assured  him  of 
his  friendship.  Guards  were  stationed  at  the  door  of 
the  studio,  that  the  artist  might  be  undisturbed ;  and  a 
few  days  after,  Deme'trius,  perceiving  that  the  only 
means  by  which  he  could  get  possession  of  the  city 
would  be  to  burn  the  place  on  which  the  studio  stood, 
preferred  to  raise  the  siege  rather  than  expose  the  works 
of  Protogenes  to  almost  certain  destruction. 

Thus  Rhodes  owed  its  safety  to  the  talent  of  Pro- 
togenes ;  and  we  can  well  imagine  that  they  rendered 
him  the  most  flattering  homage. 

Zeuxis,  Aristides,  Parrhasius,  Timanthes,  Apelles,  and 
Protogenes  were  the  most  celebrated  painters  that  Greece 
can  boast  of.  It  was  not  long  before  the  art-which  they 
had  carried  to  so  high  a  degree  of  perfection  began  to 
decline,  and  the  wars  of  which  Greece  was  the  theatre 
hastened  their  decay.  It  is  said,  however,  that  Asclepi- 
odorus,  Nicomachus,  and  Pausias,  all  contemporaries 
of  Apelles,  preserved  the  traditions  of  the  great  masters. 
Asclepiodorus  drew  so  correctly  as  to  meet  the  appro- 
bation of  Apelles.  Nicomachus  painted  with  great 
facility :  it  is  said  that  he  made  pictures  as  Homer  made 


PAINTERS.  119 

verses ;  and  Pausias  decorated  the  ceiling  and  walls  of 
the  palace  of  paintings  in  encaustic,  and  represented 
flowers  most  truthfully.  He  succeeded  equally  well  in 
other  styles,  and  a  picture  in  which  he  painted  Drunk- 
enness, so  that  the  face  was  seen  illumined  through  the 
enormous  glass  from  which  he  was  drinking,  has  been 
much  praised. 

Then  came  Euphranor,  Nicias,  Timonachus  of  By- 
zantium, who  all  made  laudable  efforts  for  the  glory  of 
painting ;  Pyreicus,  also,  painted  common  subjects,  as 
markets,  inns,  barbers'  and  shoemakers'  shops,  and 
caricatures  of  all  sorts,  which  were  very  much  liked. 

Art  never  recovered  her  dignity  after  Pyreicus,  and 
Greece,  conquered  by  the  Romans,  had  no  more  cel- 
ebrated painters. 


TITIAN  —  GIORGIONE. 

Tiziano  Vecelli  was  born  at  Cadore,  on  the  borders  of 
Friuli,  about  the  year  1477,  and  at  first  received  a 
learned  education.  He  lived  in  habits  of  intimacy  with 
philosophers  and  poets  of  his  time,  with  Ariosto  at 
Ferrara,  Pietro  Aretino  at  Venice,  &c.  His  family  was 
one  of  the  oldest  of  the  republic  of  Venice,  and  Saint 
Titian,  Bishop  of  Odezza,  his  patron,  belonged  to  the 
family. 

His  father  put  him  under  the  care  of  the  teacher  of 


120  THE    PRINCES   OF   ART. 

the  village  nearest  his  castle,  until  he  was  old  enough  to 
be  sent  to  some  college  of  note.  Here  he  learned  to 
read  and  write,  and  appeared  to  have  no  desire  to  go 
farther  in  his  studies,  at  least  in  the  sciences  which  his 
professor  taught.  He  had  no  greater  pleasure  than  to 
escape  the  vigilance  of  this  teacher,  and  run  through  the 
fields  gathering  flowers,  whose  brilliant  colors  he  ad- 
mired, and  making  bouquets.  Returning  to  his  class, 
he  would  destroy  the  beautiful  flowers,  and  use  their 
juice  in  painting  other  flowers  upon  his  copy-books. 

At  first,  the  young  Titian  was  severely  reprimanded, 
because  he  not  only  did  not  know  his  lessons,  but  he 
distracted  the  attention  of  his  schoolmates,  who  were 
curious  to  examine  his  pictures.  When  the  teacher 
became  convinced  that  his  pupil  had  a  decided  taste  for 
the  arts,  he  informed  Signor  Yecelli,  and  advised  him 
not  to  thwart  him  in  this  vocation.  % 

His  advice  was  accepted,  and  Titian  was  taken  to 
Venice,  and  at  the  age  of  twelve  years  placed  in  the 
studio  of  Gentile  Bellini.  Gentile  and  Jean  Bellini 
were  then  in  great  reputation,  and  although  united  by 
the  strictest  friendship,  they  worked  with  extreme  ardor, 
and  endeavored  to  surpass  each  other.  Gentile  im- 
mediately recognized  the  gift  of  the  young  Yecelli,  who 
made  rapid  progress  in  a  short  time,  but  who,  once  in- 
itiated into  the  principles  of  painting,  no  longer  adhered 
to  the  rules  of  the  master.  Gentile  tried  in  vain  to 
guide  him,  and  finally,  indignant  at  what  he  supposed 


PAINTERS.  121 

to  be  obstinacy,  predicted  that  he  would  never  be  any- 
thing but  a  dauber. 

Gentile  was  chosen  by  the  republic  of  Venice  to  go  to 
the  Sultan  Mahomet  II.,  who  was  desirous  of  employ- 
ing a  skilful  artist,  and  Titian  passed  into  Jean's  studio. 
The  method  of  Jean  was  nearly  the  same  as  that  of 
Gentile,  but  his  style  was  bolder  than  that  of  his  brother  : 
the  attempts  of  Titian,  remarkable  for  softness,  grace, 
and  a  peculiar  charm,  pleased  him. 

The  first  known  works  of  Jean  Bellini  are  some  por- 
traits, an  Angel  holding  the  young  Tobias  by  the  Hand, 
a  Nativity,  and  a  picture  representing  the  Virgin,  St. 
Hoch,  and  /St.  /Sebastian  —  a  picture  which  he  painted 
for  the  church  of  his  native  village. 

About  this  time  Giorgio  Barbarelli,  of  Castel  Franco, 
entered  the  school  of  Jean  Bellini.  This  new  pupil, 
about  the  age  of  Titian,  was  of  humble  origin ;  but  his 
manners  were  so  elegant,  his  mind  so  distinguished,  that 
no  young  Venetian  gentleman  could  surpass  him.  A 
fine  voice,  a  rare  talent  for  music,  joined  to  an  agreeable 
exterior,  had  opened  the  most  aristocratic  halls  to  him, 
and  Jean  Bellini  knew  that  he  was  an  artist  of  great 
hope,  when  he  consented  to  admit  him  into  his  studio. 

Very  soon  Giorgio  was  the  king  of  it.  His  bold, 
proud,  and  lively  character  conciliated  the  affection  of 
all  his  fellow-students,  while  his  aptness  gained  for  him 
the  esteem  of  his  master.  Giorgio,  bestowing  the  same 
ardor  upon  painting  which  he  did  upon  other  things, 


122  THE    PRINCES   OF   ART. 

and  being  endowed  with  an  exquisite  feeling  for  the 
beautiful  in  art,  soon  learned  all  that  Bellini  could  teach. 
The  study  of  the  works  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci  opened  to 
him  a  new  field,  into  which  he  boldly  rushed. 

Jean  Bellini,  too  much  a  slave  to  routine,  blamed  the 
impetuosity  of  his  pupil,  and  tried  to  lead  him  back  to 
the  sobriety  of  colors,  and  austerity  of  the  types  which 
he  had  himself  adopted ;  but  the  genius  of  Giorgio 
spoke  louder  than  the  precepts  of  Bellini,  and  although 
the  master  predicted  what  would  happen,  he  could 
not  help  admiring  this  young  talent,  and  showing  par- 
ticular affection  and  indulgence  to  Barbarelli. 

Titian  became  the  intimate  friend  of  Giorgio,  and  his 
ardent  admirer.  He  found  in  his  pictures  what  he  had 
so  long  regretted  as  wanting  in  those  of  Bellini  —  life, 
color,  and  grace.  Therefore  he  took  more  pains  to  im- 
itate his  fellow-student  than  his  master,  and  succeeded 
so  well,  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  distinguish  his 
work  from  that  of  his  friend. 

Giorgio,  who  was  very  tall,  strong,  and  handsome, 
exercised  great  influence  in  the  studio,  and  they  gave 
him  the  surname  of  Giorgione.  It  is  well  known  that 
the  Italian  language  admits  of  augmentatives  and  di- 
minutives. Giorgione  signifies  great  George,  George  the 
strong,  as  Giorgino  would  signify  little  George,  George 
the  slender.  Barbarelli  has  retained  the  surname  given 
him  by  his  companions. 

Giorgione,  although  a  fellow-pupil  of  Titian,  was  his 


PAINTEES.  123 

only  teacher  for  some  years ;  it  was  his  style,  and  not 
that  of  Bellini,  which  the  celebrated  Titian  imitated. 
They  both  remained  in  Bellini's  studio,  occupied  in 
painting  church  pictures.  It  must  be  acknowledged 
that  this  kind  of  painting  was  not  very  pleasing  to  Titian , 
who,  at  that  time,  did  not  understand  how  much  poetry 
there  is  in  the  scenes  borrowed  from  Holy  Writ.  Bel- 
lini was  frequently  obliged  to  repress  the  wanderings  of 
this  ardent  imagination  of  Titian,  who  felt  more  at  his 
ease  when  representing  divinities  of  fable  than  monks 
and  martyrs.  Giorgione  was  of  the  same  opinion  as 
Titian,  but  the  difficulty  of  getting  employment  else- 
where obliged  them  to  be  patient. 

One  day,  when  Giorgione  had  gained  a  wager,  our 
two  hair-brained  youths,  having  some  money  in  their 
pockets,  excused  themselves  from  going  to  the  studio, 
and  were  absent  until  they  had  spent  their  last  cent. 
Then  they  began  to  think  how  they  could  appear  before 
Master  Bellini,  who,  they  knew,  would  not  countenance 
such  pranks. 

"  Let  us  risk  it,"  said  Titian  ;  "  we  deserve  a  reprimand  ; 
we  will  submit,  and  that  will  be  the  end  of  it." 

w  I  think  you  are  mistaken  in  judging  of  Master  Jean's 
clemency,"  replied  Giorgione ;  "  believe  me,  it  is  better 
that  we  should  not  go  back  to  him." 

"Bah!  we  will  acknowledge  our  fault,  and  he  must 
pardon  us." 

"Let  us  go,  then,"  said  Giorgione,  whose  resolute 
character  at  length  gave  way. 


124  THE   FRINGES   OF  ART. 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  two  apprentices  knocked  at 
Jean  Bellini's  door ;  it  was  never  more  to  be  opened  to 
them.  Giorgione  had  not  been  deceived ;  the  master, 
fearing  the  influence  of  their  example  in  this  conduct 
upon  the  other  pupils,  had  resolved  not  to  receive  them 
again. 

Giorgione  and  Titian  were  much  embarrassed :  they 
were  without  work,  and  without  money ;  but,  at  their 
age,  one  has  so  much  confidence  in  the  future  that 
courage  soon  revives. 

"  Work  never  fails  those  who  seek  it  in  earnest,"  said 
Giorgione ;  "  and  as  we  both  have  talent,  we  shall  have 
as  much  work  as  we  can  do,  as  soon  as  we  shall  be 
known." 

"Yes,  but  until  then?" 

"  O,  well !  until  then  we  will  paint  portraits  ;  and  if 
we  ask  a  reasonable  price,  we  shall  earn  our  living." 

At  first  they  earned  very  little  ;  and  having  moderate 
desires,  the  two  friends  lived  very  happily.  Painting, 
at  this  time,  was  much  in  vogue  in  Italy,  and  especially 
in  Venice.  Giorgione  and  Titian  began  by  painting 
portraits  of  friends,  and  soon  became  too  well  known  to 
be  anxious  for  the  morrow.  But  this  did  not  satisfy 
their  ambition  :  they  longed  for  fame  and  fortune. 

One  day,  when  Giorgione  awoke,  he  said  to  his  friend, 
who  shared  his  bed,  — 

"  I  have  thought  of  something  which  cannot  fail  to 
give  us  honor  and  riches,  and  which  only  needs  your 
consent." 


PAINTERS.  125 

"What  is  it?  "  said  Titian,  who  had  the  most  entire 
confidence  in  his  friend. 

"  It  is  simply  the  question  of  painting  the  facade  of 
our  house  in  fresco." 

"The  facade  of  our  house?  "  repeated  Titian. 

"  Of  the  house  we  inhabit,  if  you  mean  that  it  does 
not  belong  to  us.  Be  quiet ;  we  shall  do  better  than 
that,  and  in  a  year  or  two  there  will  not  be  a  palace  too 
beautiful  for  us.  How  you  look  at  me !  One  would 
think  that  you  did  not  understand  what  I  say." 

"I  declare  that  you  would  do  me  a  favor  by  ex- 
plaining." 

"  Child  !  who  cannot  imagine  that  at  the  sight  of  our 
beautiful  frescoes, — for  they  would  be  magnificent, — 
every  person  who  passes  will  ask  who  did  them,  I  will 
answer  for  it." 

"That  is  true,  and  we  shall  be  known  much  sooner 
than  in  limiting  ourselves  to  painting  portraits." 

"  Doubtless  ;  but  that  is  not  all.  Seeing  how  our  paint- 
ings improve  this  house,  which  looks  so  homely  and  sad, 
every  noble  Venetian,  and  every  rich  merchant,  will  take 
a;  fancy  to  embellish  his  with  similar  ornaments.  And 
to  whom  will  they  apply?  To  the  two  young  painters, 
of  course,  who  first  had  the  idea  of  decorating  in  this 
manner." 

"  You  are  right,"  cried  Titian  ;  "  let  us  go  quickly  to 
work." 

All  happened  as  Giorgione  had  foretold.     Very  soon 


126  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

his  name  and  that  of  Titian  were  known  throughout  the 
city,  and  they  had  much  more  work  than  they  could  do. 
The  brothers  Bellini  had  long  been  the  kings  of  painting 
in  Venice  ;  but  without  disputing  their  merit,  there  was 
found  in  the  pencils  of  the  two  young  artists  something 
sweet,  soft,  and  living,  which  gained  for  them  the  pref- 
erence. 

The  Doge  Loredano  wished  to  have  his  portrait  from 
the  hand  of  Giorgione ;  and  he  was  so  much  pleased 
with  it,  that  to  recompense  the  artist,  he  engaged  him  to 
paint  the  facade  of  an  immense  building,  which  served 
as  a  warehouse  for  merchandise  brought  from  Germany. 

Everything  being  in  common  with  the  two  friends, 
Giorgione  took  two  thirds  of  the  work,  and  confided  one 
to  Titian,  and  each  chose  the  subject  which  best  suited 
him.  The  bold,  proud,  and  learned  composition  of 
Giorgione  was  much  admired ;  but  that  of  Titian,  sweet, 
graceful,  and  charming,  was  received  with  universal 
enthusiasm.  Both  were  attributed  to  Giorgione,  because 
he  had  contracted  for  the  work.  Habituated  as  Gior- 
gione was  to  consider  himself  more  able  than  his  com- 
panion, he  felt  a  certain  displeasure  at  the  sight  of 
Titian's  works,  whose  beauty  he  could  not  deny,  and 
this  displeasure  soon  became  jealousy. 

The  friends  of  Giorgione,  not  knowing  how  the  work 
had  been  distributed  between  the  two  comrades,  warmly 
felicitated  him,  whom  they  supposed  to  be  the  author  of 
it :  it  was  their  opinion  that  not  even  the  greatest  masters 


PAINTERS.  127 

could  disavow  the  minutest  details  of  these  beautiful 
frescoes ;  but  they  signalized  some  of  Titian's  figures, 
particularly  that  of  Judith  about  to  cut  off  the  Head  of 
Holofernes,  as  pencillings  of  marvellous  beauty.  It 
had  been  difficult  for  Giorgione  to  bear  the  idea  of 
Titian's  being  his  equal ;  what,  then,  could  be  his  feelings 
on  seeing  himself  surpassed  ?  Jealousy  stifled  all  friend- 
ship for  him  whom  he  called  his  brother.  With  a  heart 
overflowing  with  bitterness,  he  shut  himself  in  a  room, 
refusing  admission  to  Titian. 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  young  man  insisted  upon 
knowing  the  cause  of  such  cruel  treatment ;  in  vain  he 
supplicated  Giorgione  to  receive  him,  assuring  him  that 
some  misunderstanding  had  caused  his  displeasure.  Gior- 
gione, who  would  not  for  the  world  have  acknowleged 
the  sentiments  which  had  taken  possession  of  him,  de- 
clared that  he  would  not  listen  to  any  justification  which 
he  could  make,  and  that  he  would  have  nothing  more  to 
do  with  him. 

Titian  could  not  believe  this,  and  tried  to  meet  him 
in  his  walks,  or  in  some  of  the  public  places  which  they 
had  been  accustomed  to  visit  together ;  he  could  not  be 
persuaded  that  the  sweet  ties  which  had  united  them, 
and  thanks  to  which  they  had  so  happily  supported  their 
ill  luck,  were  forever  broken.  Giorgione  avoided  seeing 
him,  and  Titian,  losing  all  hope  of  a  reconciliation  with 
the  friend  of  his  youth,  resolved  to  quit  Venice,  which 
had  become  irksome  to  him,  since  he  must  enjoy  the 


128  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

benefit  of  the  reputation  which  his  young  and  rare  talent 
began  to  create  alone.  He  remained  only  long  enough 
to  finish  a  picture  destined  for  the  church  of  the  Frari. 
His  very  large  figures,  full  of  life  and  strength,  at  first 
little  pleased  the  Venetian  amateurs,  accustomed  to  the 
rather  dry  paintings  of  the  Bellini;  yet  when,  after  the 
first  surprise,  they  rendered  ample  justice  to  this  chef- 
d'ceuvre,  Titian  was  cited  as  the  first  painter  in  Venice, 
and  people  were  happy  to  obtain  one  of  his  paintings. 

But  Titian  wished  to  travel :  he  left  for  Vicenza, 
promising  to  return.  In  Vicenza  he  decorated  the 
audience  hall  of  the  Palace  of  Justice,  choosing  the 
Judgment  of  Solomon  for  his  subject.  The  sight  of 
this  picture  drew  forth  a  cry  of  admiration  from  the 
public,  who  wished  to  retain  the  artist  in  their  city ;  but 
their  entreaties  were  of  no  avail. 

He  went  to  Padua,  where  he  painted  the  history  of 
St.  Antonio,  patron  of  that  city,  in  three  beautiful 
frescoes,  which  have  been  carefully  preserved  by  the 
school  of  St.  Antonio,  of  Padua,  and  copied  by  many 
celebrated  painters  at  different  epochs.  .The  inhabitants 
of  Padua  had  never  seen  anything  comparable  with 
these  frescoes  ;  and  they  were  so  urgent  to  have  more  of 
Titian's  pictures,  that  he  prolonged  his  stay  in  that  hos- 
pitable city  until  1511. 

Giorgione,  who  remained  in  Venice  after  the  depart- 
ure of  Titian,  painted,  among  other  works,  a  Christ 
bearing  his  Cross  —  a  magnificent  picture. 


PAINTERS.  129 

The  reputation  of  Giorgione  had  suffered  no  dim- 
inution. If  the  superiority  of  Titian  was  no  longer 
doubtful  to  a  certain  number  of  amateurs,  the  merit  of 
his  old  friend  was  not  the  less  indisputable,  and  he  con- 
tinually received  orders  from  all  parts  of  the  country. 
But  what  did  he  care  for  wealth?  What  for  glory? 
He  had  lost  that  which  made  the  charm  of  his  life  —  the 
certainty  of  excelling  every  rival,  and  the  friendship  of 
Titian.  His  good,  humor,  his  unchangeable  gayety, 
abandoned  him  ;  the  world  became  odious  to  him,  and  he 
confined  himself  to  the  most  absolute  solitude.  This  sud- 
den change  ruined  his  health,  and  after  languishing  for 
some  time,  he  died  at  the  age  of  thirty-two  years. 

Sebastian  del  Piombo  was  his  first  pupil,  if  we  except 
his  schoolmate  and  friend,  Titian,  whose  master  he  real- 
ly was. 

Few  painters  have  put  so  much  strength  and  fire  into 
their  pictures  as  Giorgione.  The  portraits  by  this  art- 
ist are  living  pictures ;  his  landscapes  touched  with  ex- 
quisite tact;  his  taste  delicate,  his  complexions  true, 
and  his  chiaro-scuro  irreproachable.  The  brothers  Bel- 
lini had  cultivated  painting,  conscientiously,  as  they 
found  it ;  but  Giorgione  added  much  to  the  dominion  of 
art,  and  created,  as  it  were,  the  new  school  which  Titian 
was  to  make  illustrious. 

After  the  death  of  his  unhappy  friend,  Titian  returned 
to  Venice,  and  finished  several  works  commenced  by 
Jean  Bellini  and  by  Giorgione.  Among  them  was  a 
9 


130  THE    PRINCES    OF  ART. 

large  fresco  destined  to  ornament  the  Council  Hall,  and 
representing  the  Emperor  Frederick  Barbarossa  at  the 
feet  of  Pope  Alexander  III.  Instead  of  confining 
himself  to  the  original  drawing,  Titian  changed  the  ar- 
rangement, and  introduced  the  portraits  of  the  most  cele- 
brated personages  of  his  time,  from  the  army,  the 
magistracy,  the  church,  and  the  arts,  all  in  costumes 
suitable  to  the  age  which  the  scene  represented. 

This  fresco  was  properly  appreciated,  and  Titian  re- 
ceived a  title  which  was  reserved  for  the  best  Venetian 
painters.  This  title  gave  the  right  to  a  small  pension 
and  the  privilege  of  painting  the  portrait  of  each  new 
doge,  in  consideration,  however,  of  paying  eight  crowns 
per  portrait. 

The  renown  of  Titian  soon  spread  through  all  Italy, 
and  the  Duke  of  Ferrara,  Alphonso  d'Este,  whose 
palace  was  open  to  all  great  artists,  invited  the  Venetian 
painter  to  honor  it  with  his  presence.  Titian  accepted 
the  invitation  of  the  duke,  and  displayed  all  the  richness 
of  his  pencil  in  three  subjects  borrowed  from  mythology. 
Two  of  these  pictures  represent  Bacchus  and  his  court, 
and  the  third,  an  infinite  number  of  little  Loves,  which 
great  painters  are  pleased  to  copy.  Augustino  Carracci 
considered  these  two  pictures  the  most  beautiful  in  the 
world,  and  Domenichino,  who  studied  them  with  care, 
wept  bitterly  when  he  saw  them  packed  for  Spain. 

Titian  made  the  acquaintance  of  Ariosto  at  Ferrara. 
Friendship  soon  united  these  two  men  of  genius,  who 


PAINTERS.  131 

immortalized  each  other,  the  painter  by  the  portrait 
of  the  poet,  and  the  poet  by  consecrating  his  verses  to 
the  painter. 

After  the  three  mythological  scenes  in  which  Titian 
allowed  his  pencil  to  follow  the  flight  of  his  fancy,  he 
returned  to  religious  subjects.  The  encomiums  passed 
upon  the  mystic  pictures  of  Albert  Durer  at  the  court 
of  Ferrara,  inspired  him  with  the  idea  of  a  magnificent 
Christ,  which  he  painted  upon  the  door  of  a  wardrobe, 
with  so  much  patience  and  love,  that  an  enthusiastic  ad- 
miration saluted  its  appearance. 

No  sooner  was  Titian  reestablished  in  Venice,  in  1515, 
than  he  received  an  invitation  from  Pope  Leo  X.  to 
visit  Rome.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  agreeable 
to  him  than  to  visit  the  country  of  the  fine  arts,  and  to 
add  something  of  his  own  composition  to  the  immortal 
chefs-d'oeuvre  of  Michael  Angelo  and  Raphael ;  but  his 
numerous  friends  retained  him  in  Venice,  and  forced 
him  to  thank  the  Pope  for  his  kind  intentions. 

Titian  made  a  great  number  of  portraits.  The  doge, 
the  first  captains,  and  all  the  lords  of  the  republic, 
sought  the  honor  of  having  their  portraits  taken  by  this 
able  artist.  He  painted  two  Battle-pieces  for  the  senate 
of  Venice,  — which  were  afterwards  destroyed  by  fire,  — 
an  Assumption  of  the  Holy  Virgin,  a  St.  Nicholas, 
St.  Francis,  St.  Catherine,  and  St.  Sebastian. 

The  St.  Sebastian  was  the  object  of  a  very  singular 
criticism.  Vasari,  author  of  the  Lives  of  Italian  paint- 


132  THE   PKINCES   OF   AKT. 

QTS,  says,  that  "  Titian  was  not  much  troubled  about 
representing  this  martyr ;  that  he  made  a  real  man  of 
him,  and  one  could  not  help  shuddering  at  sight  of  his 
wounds."  What  greater  praise  than  such  a  criticism  ! 

About  this  time  Titian  also  painted  Christ  at  Table 
between  St.  Luke  and  Cleophas ;  and  this  picture  was 
found  so  beautiful,  that  the  gentleman  who  had  ordered 
it  made  it  a  present  to  the  republic,  saying  that  such  a 
treasure  should  not  be  hidden  in  a  private  gallery. 
Afterwards  appeared  the  Martyrdom  of  St.  Peter,  in 
\vhich  Titian  displayed  all  the  magical  vigor  of  his  pencil, 
and  which  passed  not  only  for  the  chef-d'oeuvre  of  this 
illustrious  master,  but  which,  with  the  Transfiguration 
by  Raphael,  and  the  Communion  of  St.  Jerome  by 
Domenichino,  is  considered  the  most  beautiful  which 
has  been  produced  in  painting. 

Titian's  glory  increased  faster  than  his  fortune ;  for 
the  magnificent  pictures  which  at  the  present  time  are 
almost  covered  with  gold,  were  far  from  being  well 
paid.  "He  was  living  very  modestly,  when  his  friend 
Aretino  introduced  him  to  the  Cardinal  Hyppolite  di 
Medici. 

Charles  V.  having  come  to  Bologna  to  be  anointed, 
the  cardinal  spoke  to  him  of  Titian.  The  emperor 
immediately  sent  for  him,  and  desired  his  portrait. 
Titian  painted  the  emperor  on  horseback,  covered  with 
armor,  and  so  majestic  that  Charles  V.  was  enchanted, 
and  paid  Titian  one  thousand  crowns  in  gold  for  the 
portrait,  and  assured  him  of  his  protection. 


PAINTERS.  133 

The  generous  and  illustrious  persons  who  accom- 
panied the  emperor  had  their  portraits  taken  also,  and 
recompensed  him  largely.  Among  them,  those  of 
Antonio  Leva  and  Don  Alphonso  d'Avolas  are  the 
most  celebrated. 

Titian,  enriched  by  the  liberalities  of  Charles  V.  and 
the  nobles,  returned  to  Venice,  where  he  continued  to 
work  until  1543,  when  he  went  to  Ferrara,  to  paint  the 
portrait  of  Paul  III.  It  would  be  impossible  to  speak 
of  all  that  he  did  at  that  time ;  the  mere  mention  of  his 
pictures  would  fill  pages. 

The  Pope  was  so  delighted  with  his  portrait  that  he 
tried  to  induce  Titian  to  go  to  Rome  with  him,  but  he 
had  promised  to  accompany  Urbino  to  the  Duke  Francis 
of  Rovera.  Two  years  after,  however,  he  complied  with 
the  request  of  Cardinal  Farnese,  and  accepted  the  royal 
hospitality  which  he  offered  him  at  Rome. 

Titian  was  received  with  all  the  honors  due  to  his 
talent.  Paul  III.  placed  the  apartments  of  the  Bel- 
videre  at  his  disposition,  and  treated  him  as  if  he  were 
a  prince.  The  Venetian  artist  painted  an  Ecce  Homo 
with  an  admirable  expression,  and  then  a  second 
portrait. 

It  is  said  that  Titian  having  placed  this  portrait  of  the 
Pope  upon  a  terrace  to  dry  the  varnish,  the  passers  by, 
thinking  it  was  the  Pope  taking  an  airing  upon  the 
terrace,  made  their  obeisance  to  it.  This  mistake  was 
very  flattering,  both  to  the  Pope  and  the  artist. 


134  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

Titian  remained  in  Rome  only  one  year,  but  he  left 
a  beautiful  Danae  for  the  Duke  Octavio  Farnese,  a 
perfect  chef-d'oeuvre  in  life  and  coloring. 

Paul  III.  offered  lucrative  positions  to  Titian  and  his 
son,  if  he  would  remain  in  the  capital  of  the  Christian 
world ;  but  a  permanent  residence  in  Rome  did  not 
please  the  illustrious  artist :  he  returned  to  Venice,  his 
home,  where  he  seemed  to  renew  the  vigor  of  youth. 
He  was  welcomed  by  excellent  friends,  and  lived  happily, 
passing  his  time  in  labor  and  pleasant  conversation, 
until  Charles  V.,  who  had  not  forgotten  his  painter, 
called  him  to  his  court  at  Innspruck,  where  wealth  and 
honor  awaited  him.  It  seemed  as  if  the  emperor  could 
not  be  happy  without  his  favorite  artist ;  he  wished  that 
Titian  should  accompany  him  in  all  his  journeys,  grant- 
ed him  admission  to  his  apartments  at  all  times  without 
being  announced,  created  him  count  and  knight,  and 
ennobled  his  family  forever. 

Titian  was  seventy-six  years  old  when  Charles  Y. 
wished  him  to  paint  his  portrait  for  the  third  time. 
Charles  was  arrayed  in  the  insignia  of  imperial  majesty  ; 
Titian  stood  by  his  easel,  sketching  the  noble  features, 
veiled  already  with  that  shade  of  sombre  melancholy 
which  afterwards  inspired  him  with  the  singular  resolu- 
tion of  burying  himself  alive  in  the  monastery  of  St.  Just. 
The  emperor  and  the  painter  were  conversing  together ; 
suddenly  the  pencil  slipped  from  the  painter's  ha'nd,  and 
fell  to  the  floor.  Before  any  one  made  a  motion,  Charles 


PAINTERS.  135 

stooped,  picked  it  up,  and  handed  it  to  Titian,  who, 
stupefied  and  confounded,  received  it  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  saying,  — 

"  Ah  !  sire,  you  confound  me  !  " 

"  How  then !  Is  not  Titian  worthy  to  be  served  by 
Oesar?" 

This  great  emperor,  who  considered  himself  as  above 
all  others,  thought  he  never  could  show  sufficient  defer- 
ence to  his  painter.  In  public,  he  placed  him  on  his 
right  hand  and  showed  him  so  much  attention  that  the 
princes  of  royal  blood  were  jealous  of  him.  They  ven- 
tured to  make  some  observations  on  the  subject  to  the 
emperor,  who  replied,  — 

"  I  know  a  great  number  of  princes  and  kings,  but  I 
believe  that  there  are  not  two  Titians  in  the  whole 
world." 

At  Innspruck,  the  Venetian  artist  painted  the  portrait 
of  Philip  II.  ;  of  Ferdinand,  king  of  the  Romans,  of 
Maria,  his  wife,  and  of  their  seven  daughters,  whom  he 
grouped  together  in  a  charming  picture.  He  also 
painted  other  illustrious  personages  ;  but  the  work  from 
which  he  received  the  greatest  honor  was  an  Apotheosis 
of  Charles  V. ;  a  composition  in  which  the  Trinity,  es- 
corted by  a  troop  of  Cherubims,  of  exquisite  beauty, 
receives  the  homage  of  the  Virgin  and  the  Saints.  This 
picture,  inundated  with  light,  makes  him  who  contem- 
plates it  realize  the  eternal  joys  of  the  blessed. 

After  an  absence  of  five  years,  Titian  returned  to 


136  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

Venice,  and  was  admitted  to  the  Senate,  to  give  an 
account  of  his  travels ;  such  an  honor  was  only  accorded 
to  ambassadors.  The  doge,  surprised  at  the  recital 
which  he  made  of  his  sojourn  at  the  court  of  Charles  Y. , 
said,  — 

"  After  all  the  honors  that  kings  and  emperors  have 
conferred  upon  you,  Sir  Titian,  it  will  not  be  in  our 
power  to  recompense  your  talent  worthily." 

"May  it  please  your  grace,"  replied  Titian,  " there 
is  a  recompense  which  it  is  in  your  power  to  grant  me." 

"  Speak,  Sir  Painter,  and  what  you  ask  shall  be 
granted." 

"Permit  me,  then,  your  excellency,  to  finish  the 
Council  Chamber  at  my  own  expense." 

This  proposition  was  received  with  due  gratitude  ;  and 
Titian,  who  found  that,  on  account  of  his  age,  he  should 
not  be  able  to  accomplish  the  great  work  he  had  under- 
taken, engaged  the  services  of  several  painters  of  talent, 
—  Tintoretto,  Paul  Veronese,  and  Horatio  Vecelli,  his 
second  son,  who  had  embraced  the  same  career  as  him- 
self, and  whose  teacher  he  was. 

Besides  this  work,  Titian  was  constantly  assailed  with 
orders  from  Charles  V.,  to  whom  he  was  too  much  in- 
debted not  to  strive  to  satisfy  him.  He  therefore  sent 
him  a  $t.  Sebastian,  a  Mater  Dolorosa,  painted  upon 
stone,  and  a  large  picture,  representing  Heligion  pur- 
sued by  Heresy.  For  these  pictures  he  received  new 
honors  and  new  pensions. 


PAINTERS.  137 

Charles  V.  died,  and  Philip  II.,  who  had  already 
chosen  Titian  for  his  painter,  continued  to  attach  a  great 
value  to  the  works  of  this  eminent  artist.  Among  the 
pictures  painted  for  him  were  Diana  and  Actazon, 
Andromeda  and  Perseus,  Medea  and  Jason,  the  Mar- 
tyrdom of  St.  Lorenzo,  the  Flagellation  of  Christ, 
and  a  Magdalen. 

It  is  said  that  Titian  gave  the  Magdalen  such  an 
expression,  that  the  king  said  he  had  never  seen  any- 
thing more  striking;  and,  complimenting  the  painter, 
he  asked  "why  his  Magdalen  wept  thus."  The  artist 
answered,  that  she  was  begging,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
that  his  majesty  would  pay  Titian  the  pension  which 
Charles  V.  had  wished  to  leave  him.  Philip,  severe  as  he 
was,  could  not  help  laughing  at  the  hint,  and  ordered  the 
Viceroy  of  Naples  to  pay  the  great  painter  without  delay. 

But  the  most  important  work,  for  the  King  of  Spain, 
was  The  Last  Supper,  an  immense  picture,  which  cost 
Titian  seven  years'  labor,  and  is  regarded  as  a  master- 
piece in  coloring. 

Titian  worked,  with  undiimnished  power,  to  an  ad- 
vanced age.  A  Transfiguration,  and  an  Annunciation 
of  the  Virgin,  and  some  others  of  inestimable  value, 
belong  to  the  last  years  of  his  life.  All  the  illustrious 
visitors  of  Italy  made  it  a  duty  to  pay  their  respects  to 
the  noble  old  man,  whom  they  always  found  in  his  stu- 
dio, in  the  midst  of  favorite  pupils  and  fervent  admirers. 

Henry  III.,  King  of  Poland,  having  made  a  voyage 


138  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

to  Venice,  before  the  death  of  Charles  IX.  called  him 
to  the  throne  of  France,  paid  a  visit  to  Titian,  in  com- 
pany with  the  Dukes  of  Ferrara  and  Mantua.  He  con- 
versed with  the  great  painter,  admired,  as  a  true  artist, 
the  paintings  which  his  studio  contained,  and  the  king 
chose  several,  begging  Titian  to  name  the  price  of  them  ; 
but  the  illustrious  old  man  forced  him  to  accept  them, 
as  a  testimony  of  his  gratitude  for  the  royal  visit. 

No  artist  ever  enjoyed  more  honor  and  wealth  than 
Titian :  however,  he  was  not  exempt  from  domestic 
troubles.  Pomponio,  his  eldest  son,  who  had  entered 
the  ecclesiastical  state,  conducted  himself  very  badly; 
and  the  scandal  of  his  conduct  nearly  broke  the  heart  of 
Titian,  who  found  no  consolation,  except  in  labor. 
While  in  this  state  of  feeling,  he  chose  the  Passion  of 
Christ,  and  the  Martyrdom  of  Saints,  in  preference  to 
other  subjects. 

This  great  man  arrived  at  the  age  of  ninety-one  years 
without  having  given  up  his  pencil.  His  youthful  and 
ardent  spirit  continued  to  inspire  him ;  his  hand  scarcely 
trembled,  but  his  eyes  were  somewhat  weakened,  which 
caused  him  to  think  that  his  coloring  was  never  strong 
enough.  He  imagined  that  his  old  pictures  had  the 
same  fault,  and  resolved  to  rectify  it ;  and  many  of  his 
best  works  would  have  been  lost  to  posterity,  if  his 
pupils  had  not  thought  of  a  method  to  prevent  it,  with- 
out afflicting  the  noble  old  man,  whom  they  loved  and 
respected  as  a  father.  They  mixed  his  colors  with  olive 


PAINTERS.  139 

oil,  which  would  not  dry,  so  that  they  could  at  night 
wipe  off  the  colors  which  Titian  had  put  on  in  the  day. 

It  was  hoped  that  he  would  live  to  be  a  hundred; 
but  he  fell  a  victim  to  an  epidemic  which  decimated 
Venice  in  1576.  The  news  of  his  death  cast  a  gloom 
over  the  whole  city ;  for  a  moment  every  one  forgot  his 
own  troubles  in  the  loss  of  this  man  of  genius. 

When  the  Senate  heard  of  the  death  of  Titian,  they 
made  an  exception  to  the  ordinance  requiring  the  de- 
struction of  the  bodies  of  those  who  died  with  plague, 
and  immediately  decreed  that  the  remains  of  the  great 
artist  should  be  carried  into  the  church  Dei  Frari,  with 
all  the  pomp  displayed  at  the  funeral  of  the  doges. 
All  Venice  followed  the  hearse  of  Titian,  appearing  to 
forget  the  raging  contagion  which  threatened  them. 

Titian  was  one  of  the  most  admirable  geniuses  who 
ever  lived.  All  his  works  have  a  seal  of  grandeur  and 
poetry  which  astonishes  and  charms.  "The  beings 
which  he  creates  seem  to  have  the  high  consciousness 
and  enjoyment  of  existence,  the  bliss  of  satisfaction,  so 
like,  yet  so  different,  from  the  marble  idealizations  of 
Grecian  antiquity.  The  air  of  an  harmonious,  unruffled 
existence  seems  to  characterize  them  all.  Hence  they 
produce  so  grateful  an  impression  on  the  mind  of  the 
spectator,  hence  they  impart  so  refined  and  exalted  a 
feeling,  although  generally  but  a  transcript  of  familiar 
and  well-known  objects, — representations  of  beautiful 
forms,  without  reference  to  spiritual  or  unearthly  con- 


140  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

ceptions.  It  is  life  in  its  fullest  power;  the  glorious 
freedom  of  earthly  existence  ;  the  liberation  of  art  from 
the  bonds  of  ecclesiastical  dogmas.  Italy,  Germany, 
England,  and  Spain  possess  a  great  number  of  his 
paintings,  and  there  are  twenty-two  in  the  Museum  of 
the  Louvre,  in  Paris.  Titian's  church-pictures  are  as 
fine  as  his  portraits,  his  pen-drawings  are  excellent,  and 
his  landscapes  can  be  compared  only  to  those  of  Salvator 
Rosa  and  Poussin.  No  one  could  give  more  truth  and 
life  to  his  works  than  Titian,  who  excelled  other  paint- 
ers in  chiaro-scuro .  However,  it  is  to  be  regretted  that 
he  had  not  combined  more  correctness  of  drawing  with 
the  magic  of  his  coloring  and  the  elevation  of  his 
style." 

Such  was  the  opinion  of  Michael  Angelo,  — an  opin- 
ion which  posterity  has  confirmed.  In  a  visit  which  he 
paid  Titian,  —  introduced  by  Vasari,  —  Buonarotti, 
severe,  but  just,  could  not  repress  the  expressions  of 
admiration  at  the  works  of  the  Venetian.  However,  a 
slight  frown  showed  Vasari  that  he  did  not  express  all 
his  thoughts  ;  and  when  they  left  the  studio,  he  pressed 
him  for  an  explanation. 

"  I  never  saw  anything  more  perfect  than  those  pic- 
tures, in  regard  to  composition  and  color,"  he  said ; 
"  and  if  Titian  had  only  learned  drawing  in  his  youth, 
he  would  have  been  the  greatest  painter  in  the  world." 

The  moral  qualities  of  Titian  were  not  inferior  to  his 
talents.  He  loved  simplicity  and  work  so  much,  that 


PAINTERS.  141 

he  remained  as  little  as  possible  at  the  courts  of  kings, 
and  was  never  willing  to  be  long  absent  from  his  native 
country.  He  loved  to  visit  the  places  in  which  he 
passed  his  childhood,  —  the  old  castle  where  he  was 
born,  and  the  village  school  where  he  learned  to  read. 
The  days  he  spent  in  them  were  his  festive  days.  How 
sweet  and  dear  are  the  remembrances  which  recall  the 
caresses  of  a  mother  or  the  innocent  pleasures  of  youth  ! 

Some  historians  accuse  Titian  of  avarice  ;  but  there  is 
nothing  to  justify  such  an  accusation.  His  house  was 
kept  royally  ;  all  his  servants  boasted  of  his  generosity. 
When  he  received  princes,  or  royal  strangers,  he  treated 
them  with  great  magnificence  :  for  example,  one  day 
two  Spanish  cardinals  came  unexpectedly  to  dine  with 
him.  Titian  received  them  with  his  accustomed  cor- 
diality, and  invited  them  into  his  studio.  While  they 
were  expatiating  on  the  beauty  of  his  works,  he  went  to 
a  window,  and,  throwing  a  purse  filled  with  gold  to  a 
domestic,  he  said,  "I  have  company  to  dine." 

The  dinner  was  served  in  princely  style. 

He  received  enormous  sums  of  money,  and  left  his 
children  in  easy  circumstances  ;  but,  if  he  had  been 
avaricious,  his  fortune  would  have  been  immense.  Ho- 
ratio Vecelli  died  of  the  pest  a  few  weeks  after  Titian  ; 
and  the  inheritance  of  the  illustrious  painter  passed  into 
the  hands  of  his  unworthy  son,  Pomponio,  who  dissi- 
pated the  whole  of  it  in  a  few  years,  and  died  in  indi- 
gence. 


^ 


142  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

Titian,  like  Michael  Angelo,  had  illustrious  friends. 
Versed  in  science  and  letters,  he  often  gave  Ariosto 
good  advice,  which  was  received  with  gratitude.  He 
was  also  connected  with  Aretino,  who  was  then  called 
the  divine  poet,  or  the  scourge  of  kings,  —  a  man  of 
rare  talent,  but  of  perverse  mind,  and  licentious  man- 
ners. 

Titian  never  yielded  to  the  pernicious  influence  of 
Aretino's  conversation,  and  during  his  long  life  had  the 
happiness  of  being  guided  by  the  principles  of  honor  and 
virtue. 

KAPHAEL  SANZIO. 

Raphael  Sanzio  was  born  on  Good  Friday,  March 
28,  1483,  at  Urbino,  a  small  town  situated  between 
Perouse  and  Pesaro,  in  the  States  of  the  Church.  His 
father,  Giovanni  Sanzio,  an  ordinary  painter,  destined 
him  for  the  career  which  he  had  himself  embraced,  and 
was  his  first  instructor.  But  God  had  put  a  ray  of  the 
sacred  fire  which  we  call  genius  into  the  soul  of  this 
child,  and  Giovanni,  surprised  at  his  astonishing  prog- 
ress, immediately  recognized  that  it  was  not  in  his 
power  to  teach  him. 

A  Madonna,  in  fresco,  which  Raphael  painted  upon 
the  wall  of  his  maternal  house,  set  Jean  Sanzio  to 
thinking. 

"This  child,"  said  he,  "will  never  be  a  poor  artist, 


PAINTERS.  143 

like  myself:  if  he  receives  some  good  instruction,  he 
will  not  fail  to  do  me  honor." 

Jean  reasoned  wisely,  and  did  better  still  in  taking 
his  son  to  Perouse,  where  Pietro  Vanucci,  better  known 
as  Perugino,  was  flourishing.  Sanzio's  address  pre- 
possessed the  master  in  his  favor ;  he  was  a  charming 
child,  sweet,  amiable,  and  frank,  with  a  thoughtful 
and  spiritual  face,  and  very  gentle  manners. 

"What  can  you  do?"  asked  Perugino. 

"Almost  nothing,  Master  Perugino," answered  Raph- 
ael, timidly ;  "  but  if  you  will  teach  me,  I  shall  soon 
be  able  to  give  a  different  answer,  for  you  are  a  good 
painter,  and  I  shall  be  a  docile  pupil." 

This  answer  pleased  Perugino ;  he  put  a  pencil  into 
Raphael's  hand,  who  immediately  sketched  the  Madonna, 
which  he  had  painted  some  days  before  from  recollec- 
tion. The  master,  astonished  by  the  boldness  and  cor- 
rectness of  this  sketch,  said  to  Jean  Sanzio,  "You  can 
leave  your  boy  here ;  and  it  is  for  me  to  thank  you." 

The  father  and  son  separated,  a  little  sad  at  their 
first  parting,  but  delighted  with  the  success  of  their 
undertaking;  for  Perugino  was  very  difficult  in  the 
choice  of  pupils.  This  master  well  merited  his  reputa- 
tion. Painting  had  made  some  progress  under  Giotto ; 
but  it  was  reserved  for  Perugino  to  create  those  beautiful 
types  of  the  Virgin,  noble  heads  of  old  men,  and  those 
lovely  figures  of  angels,  which  were  to  make  the  glory 
of  the  Roman  school,  and  to  become  the  ideal  of  beauty, 
under  the  magic  pencil  of  Raphael. 


144  THE   PKINCES   OF  AET. 

The  young  Sanzio  felt  all  that  was  sweet  and  poetic 
in  the  manner  of  his  new  master,  and  promptly  assimi- 
lated himself  to  it.  Never  was  a  more  beautiful  genius 
developed  by  more  assiduous  labor.  Raphael  had 
promised  to  be  a  docile  pupil :  he  kept  his  word.  His 
attention  in  listening  to  his  master's  advice,  and  putting 
it  in  practice,  his  aptness,  and  his  charming  character, 
soon  made  him  more  dear  to  Perugino  than  all  his  other 
pupils. 

For  two  years  he  worked  under  the  direction  of  his 
master;  then  he  undertook  the  unimportant  parts  of 
Perugino's  pictures,  and  acquitted  himself  so  well,  that 
able  connoisseurs  found  it  difficult  to  distinguish  be- 
tween the  work  of  the  master  and  that  of  the  pupil. 
Perugino  knew  that  Raphael  would  not  be  satisfied  to 
equal,  he  would  surpass  him ;  but  he  loved  him  too 
much  to  allow  jealous  fear  to  disturb  him. 

Sanzio  was  seventeen  years  old  when  he  painted  his 
first  picture.  Taking  advantage  of  the  absence  of  Peru- 
gino, who  was  in  Florence,  he  went  to  Citta  di  Castello 
for  a  vacation.  No  sooner  had  the  people  of  the  town 
heard  that  he  was  a  pupil  of  the  great  master  of  Pe- 
rouse,  than  they  came  to  beg  him  to  paint  a  picture  of 
St.  Nicholas  for  their  church.  This  was  an  excellent 
opportunity  for  the  young  artist  to  try  his  skill ;  and  he 
did  not  refuse.  It  was  a  perfect  success,  entirely  in 
Perugino's  style ;  it  was  found  worthy  to  figure  among 
his  best  works.  Afterwards  Raphael  was  desired  to 


PAINTERS.  145 

paint  a  Christ  on  the  Cross,  then  a  Holy  Family;  and 
in  proportion  as  he  grew  bolder,  and  followed  Perugino 
less,  his  pictures  assumed  a  greater  charm. 

The  following  year  he  painted  the  Marriage  of  the 
Virgin,  otherwise  called  the  Sposalizio,  —  a  picture 
which  was  said  to  be  only  a  copy  of  the  same  subject  by 
Perugino,  but  in  which  the  genius  which  was  to  make 
Raphael  the  king  of  painters  shone  forth. 

About  this  time  Pinturicchio,  fellow-pupil  of  Raph- 
ael, but  much  older,  was  called  to  Vienna,  to  deco- 
rate the  library  of  the  cathedral :  finding  this  too  great  a 
task  for  him,  he  proposed  to  Raphael  to  take  part.  The 
young  man  accepted  ;  and  Pinturicchio,  acknowledging 
his  superiority,  begged  him  to  take  charge  of  the  car- 
toons for  the  frescoes ;  this  he  also  did  very  willingly, 
regarding  Pinturicchio  as  his  superior.  These  two 
painters  created  quite  a  sensation ;  and  all  amateurs 
agreed  in  saying  that  it  was  the  most  beautiful  work 
ever  done. 

Despite  his  modesty,  Raphael  began  to  understand 
that  he  was  making  very  slight  progress  under  the  direc- 
tion of  Perugino,  and  that  the  study  of  the  works  of 
other  renowned  artists  would  be  useful  to  him  ;  he  there- 
fore refused  to  accept  some  advantageous  offers  which 
were  made  to  him,  and  went  to  Florence.  Leonardo 
da  Vinci  and  Michael  Angelo  were  about  finishing  their 
cartoons  for  the  frescoes  of  the  Council  Chamber ;  and 
these  magnificent  cartoons,  as  we  have  already  stated, 
10 


146  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

were  on  exhibition  for  the  instruction  of  young  artists, 
until  Florence,  freed  from  the  troubles  which  oppressed 
her,  should  demand  the  execution  of  the  paintings,  of 
which  these  sketches  had  excited  so  much  admiration. 

Raphael  was  astonished  by  the  rapid  stride  in  the  way 
of  progress  made  by  Leonardo  da  Vinci ;  but  the  style 
of  Michael  Angelo,  which,  youthful  and  full  of  fire,  left 
far  behind  him  all  that  had  been  seen  up  to  that  time, 
pleased  less  than  it  astonished  him. 

Obliged  to  go  to  Urbin,  he  made  only  a  short  stay  in 
Florence.  At  the  end  of  a  year  he  returned,  with  a 
letter  of  recommendation  to  the  gonfaloniere  from  the 
Duchess  d'Urbin.  Through  this  recommendation  he 
was  graciously  received  by  the  chief  magistrates  of  Flor- 
ence, and  an  occasion  to  display  his  talent  soon  offered 
itself.  Two  portraits,  a  Holy  Family,  and  some  other 
pictures,  soon  placed  him  in  the  first  rank  of.  artists  of 
the  city,  among  whom  was  Fra  Bartolomeo  della  Porta. 

Rajphael  and  this  painter,  already  celebrated,  soon 
became  firm  friends,  and  the  two  profited  by  the  con- 
nection. The  manner  of  Perugino  —  a  manner  which 
Raphael  had  followed  —  was  correct,  but  rather  dry ; 
Bartolomeo's  contours  were  somewhat  fuller,  softer,  his 
coloring  richer  and  more  truthful,  but  his  types  were 
not  so  pure,  and  he  was  ignorant  of  the  art  of  perspec- 
tive. The  two  friends  improved  each  other's  deficien- 
cies ;  and  this  exchange  of  good  advice  formed  an 
imperishable  bond  between  them. 


PAINTERS.  147 

It  is  thought  that  Raphael  formed  the  acquaintance 
of  Francia  in  Florence ;  and  it  is  delightful  to  see  this 
rare  genius  arrive  at  the  apogee  of  glory  without  for- 
getting the  respect  due  to  Perugino,  his  master,  nor  the 
friendship  which  he  had  made,  while  young,  with  fellow- 
artists. 

In  the  pictures  which  he  painted  at  Florence,  Raphael 
endeavored  to  correct  the  faults  which  we  mentioned, 
and  to  raise  himself  to  the  highest  point  of  progress 
which  art  had  made,  and  at  the  same  time  to  remain 
faithful  to  the  instructions  of  Perugino.  This  is  what 
is  called  the  first  manner  of  Raphael. 

While  at  Florence,  he  thought  of  undertaking  some 
great  work,  which  could  place  him  at  the  side  of  Leo- 
nardo da  Vinci  and  Michael  Angelo,  and  the  protectors 
which  the  Duchess  d'Urbin  had  given  him  were  disposed 
to  furnish  him  with  necessary  means,  when  a  great 
calamity  came  upon  him  :  he  was  sent  for  to  take  the 
last  farewell  of  a  dying  father. 

He  hastened  to  Urbin,  hoping  still  to  preserve  the 
object  of  his  tenderness,  but  he  arrived  only  in  time  to 
see  him  draw  his  last  breath.  The  dream  of  glory 
which  Raphael  had  cherished  lost  half  its  prestige,  for 
henceforth  alone  in  the  world,  he  would  have  neither 
father  nor  mother  to  be  proud  of  his  success.  To  arouse 
him  from  the  depression  caused  by  this  terrible  blow, 
the  Duke  d'Urbin  urged  him  to  paint  some  pictures ; 
and,  with  his  soul  filled  with  grief,  Raphael  painted  a 


148  THE   PKINCES   OF  ART 

Christ  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  —  a  Christ  the  type 
of  sadness  and  resignation.  Two  Virgins  followed, 
then  a  St.  George,  and  a  St.  Michael,  now  in  the 
Museum  of  the  Louvre. 

His  friends  advised  him  to  travel,  in  order  to  dissi- 
pate the  melancholy,  which  was  only  increased  by  dwell- 
ing in  his  native  village.  He  went  to  Perugia,  hoping 
to  find  some  of  the  young  people  with  whom  he  had 
studied ;  but  Perugino  was  at  Rome,  and  his  pupils  had 
dispersed.  However,  it  was  pleasant  for  Sanzio  to  be 
again  in  Perouse ;  and  he  complied  with  the  earnest 
wishes  of  friends  in  leaving  some  traces  of  his  passage 
there.  Two  or  three  pictures,  and  a  fresco  representing 
Christ  in  his  glory,  surrounded  by  angels  and  saints, 
increased  his  reputation  very  much,  and  on  his  return  to 
Florence  he  received  numerous  orders. 

The  Virgin,  known  as  La  Belle  Jardiniere,  still 
to  be  seen  in  the  Museum  of  the  Louvre,  is  considered 
as  one  of  the  best  of  Raphael's  first  method.  He  left 
the  care  of  finishing  the  drapery  of  the  Assumption 
which  he  had  commenced,  and  which  was  wanted  imme- 
diately, to  Ghirlandaio,  one  of  his  friends.  While  he 
was  at  work  upon  it,  a  letter  from  his  uncle  Bramante, 
architect  of  Julius  II.,  called  him  to  Rome. 

The  Pope  had  had  palaces  and  temples  built,  and  he 
wished  to  have  them  decorated.  Bramante,  having 
heard  of  the  talent  of  the  young  Sanzio,  seized  this 
opportunity  of  making  his  fortune.  Raphael  joyfully 


PAINTERS.  149 

accepted  the  invitation ;  and  as  soon  as  Bramante  found 
that  fame  had  not  exaggerated  the  talent  of  his  relation, 
he  presented  him  to  the  Pope. 

Julius  was  charmed  with  the  sweetness,  modesty,  and 
good  manners  of  the  young  artist,  and  allowed  him  to  make 
trial  of  his  pencil  upon  one  of  the  halls  of  the  Vatican. 
Raphael  was  transported  with  this  unexpected  good  for- 
tune, and  set  himself  to  work  with  a  certainty  of  success. 
His  first  painting  at  Rome  was  the  homage  of  gratitude 
to  his  master,  Perugino  :  he  chose  for  his  subject  the 
School  of  Athens,  and  painted  the  portrait  of  him,  whom 
he  regarded  as  his  second  father,  as  one  of  the  Greek 
philosophers,  whose  pupils,  among  whom  was  Raphael 
himself,  were  listening  attentively  to  his  instruction. 

Julius  was  so  much  charmed  by  the  sight  of  this 
beautiful  fresco,  that,  carried  away  by  his  impetuosity, 
he  declared  that  there  was  nothing  beautiful  in  his  pal- 
ace, and  ordered  all  the  frescoes  which  decorated  it  to 
be  scraped  off.  Among  these  paintings  were  many  of 
Perugino's ;  and  Raphael,  feeling  the  sadness  which 
such  treatment  would  .  cause  his  oM  master,  obtained 
permission  to  have  the  hall  of  Charlemagne  spared,  be- 
cause it  was  there  that  Perugino  had  labored  the  most. 

Raphael  continued  his  work,  happy  in  meriting  the 
approbation  of  the  Pope.  He  painted  four  frescoes  for 
La  Camera  della  Segnatura;  the  subjects  comprehended 
Theology,  Poetry,  Philosophy,  and  Jurisprudence  ;  i.  e., 
the  representation  of  those  high  pursuits  which  belong 


150  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

to  the  more  elevated  tendencies  of  human  nature.  The 
School  of  Athens  represented  Philosophy ;  and  the 
young  artist  had  given  so  true  an  expression  to  each  of 
the  philosophers,  that  it  was  easy  for  those  who  knew 
the  doctrine  of  these  sages  to  give  a  name  to  each. 

"  Theology  (erroneously  called  La  Dispute*  del  Sac- 
ramento) is  divided  into  two  parts :  the  upper  half 
represents  the  glory  of  heaven,  in  the  solemn  manner  of 
the  early  painters.  In  the  centre  is  the  Savior,  with 
outstretched  arms,  throned  on  the  clouds ;  on  his  right, 
the  Virgin,  sweet  and  affectionate  in  expression  and 
mien,  bows  before  her  divine  Son  in  heartfelt  adoration  ; 
on  the  left,  St.  John  the  Baptist.  Over  the  Savior  ap- 
pears a  half  figure  of  the  Almighty,  and  below  him  hovers 
the  Dove  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Around  this  group,  in  a 
half  circle,  sit  the  patriarchs,  apostles,  and  saints  — 
sublime,  dignified  figures,  with  the  noblest  solemnity 
and  repose  in  their  appearance.  Over  them  hover  en 
each  side  three  angel  youths  ;  below  these,  as  if  support- 
ing the  clouds,  are  a  multitude  of  angel  heads,  and  four 
boy-angels  hold  the  books  of  the  Evangelists  beside  the 
Dove.  In  the  lower  half  of  the  picture  we  see  an 
assembly  of  the  most  celebrated  theologians  of  the 
Church.  All  these  figures,  especially  as  regards  the 
expression  of  the  heads,  are  completed  with  most  strik- 
ing and  characteristic  individuality,  and  are  enlivened 
by  a  conscientious  study  of  detail."  These  pictures 
caused  Raphael  to  be  considered  the  first  painter  of  his 
time. 


PAINTERS.  151 

While  Sanzio  was  creating  these  sublime  works,  Bra- 
mante,  who  for  a  long  time  had  been  jealous  of  the 
affection  of  Julius  II.  for  Michael  Angelo,  persuaded  the 
pontiff  to  desire  his  sculptor  to  paint  frescoes  rather  than 
make  statues ;  he  thought  that  his  nephew  would  cer- 
tainly carry  off  the  palm,  and  humiliate  the  severe 
Buonarotti.  But  nothing  was  impossible  to  the  genius 
of  Michael  Angelo,  as  we  have  already  seen;  and  the 
paintings  of  the  vaulted  ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel 
placed  him  in  the  same  rank  as  Eaphael,  although  of  a 
different  style.  However,  Raphael  had  nothing  to  do 
with  this  wish  of  the  Pope,  which  caused  so  much  disap- 
pointment and  trouble  to  the  sculptor.  The  young  man, 
contented  with  his  lot,  which  certainly  was  a  very  happy 
one,  never  thought  of  disputing  the  favor  of  the  Pope 
with  Michael  Angelo ;  and  it  is  much  to  be  regretted 
that  the  intrigues  of  ordinary  men  made  rivals,  if  not 
enemies,  of  these  two  immortal  geniuses. 

Young  men  from  all  parts  of  the  country  came  to 
Raphael,  desirous  to  study  under  his  direction ;  and  he 
was  much  beloved  by  his  pupils,  whose  growing  talents 
contributed  not  a  little  to  his  glory,  by  enabling  him  to 
undertake  a  much  larger  number  of  works  than  his  own 
strength  would  have  permitted  him  to  accomplish.  It 
seems  as  if  this  incomparable  painter,  having  a  presen- 
timent of  his  premature  death,  wished  to  hasten  the 
completion  of  labors  which  were  to  transmit  his  name  to 
posterity. 


152  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

Augustino  Chizi,  a  rich  merchant  of  Sienna,  having 
built  a  palace  on  the  borders  of  the  Tiber,  Sanzio  under- 
took to  decorate  it,  and  painted  such  marvellous  heads 
of  prophets  and  sybils  that  all  Rome  wished  to  admire 
them.  Two  pictures,  a  Galatea  and  a  Psyche,  appeared 
almost  at  the  same  time ;  which,  however,  did  not  pre- 
vent the  rapid  advancement  of  the  decoration  of  the  halls 
of  the  Vatican  :  the  Miracola  di  Bolsena,  the  Deliver- 
ance of  St.  Peter,  and  the  Punishment  of  Heliodorus, 
display  the  genius  of  Raphael  in  all  its  brilliancy. 

The  death  of  Julius  II.  deprived  our  artist  of  an 
enlightened  and  benevolent  protector ;  but  Leo  X. ,  who 
succeeded  this  pontiff,  ordered  Raphael  to  continue  his 
works  upon  the  Vatican.  No  less  zealous  for  the  arts 
than  his  predecessor,  he  feared  this  young  artist  might 
go  elsewhere  to  paint.  Raphael  showed  himself  worthy 
of  the  distinction.  His  picture  of  Attila  marching 
upon  Rome,  and  that  in  which  St.  Leon  stops  the  con- 
queror at  the  foot  of  Mount  Valerio,  were  not  inferior 
to  his  preceding  pictures. 

At  Bramante's  death,  Leo  X.  chose  Raphael  for  his 
architect,  and  the  court  of  the  Vatican  was  continued 
upon  the  model  given  by  this  artist,  who  wished  to  orna- 
ment its  porticoes  in  the  antique  manner  found  in  the 
Baths  of  Titus,  and  studied  by  him  with  extreme  care. 
Raphael  made  the  designs  of  these  porticoes  to  the 
Loggie,  with  the  assistance  of  Jean  d'Udine,  one  of  his 
best  pupils.  The  Loggie  are  open  galleries  built  round 


PAINTERS.  153 

three  sides  of  the  court  of  St.  Damascus  (the  older  por- 
tion of  the  Vatican  palace).  They  consist  of  three 
stories,  the  two  lower  formed  of  vaulted  arcades,  the 
upper  by  an  elegant  colonnade.  The  first  arcade  of  the 
middle  story  was  decorated  with  paintings  and  stuccoes 
under  Raphael's  direction ;  it  leads  to  the  Stanze,  so 
that  one  master's  work  here  succeeds  to  another.  It 
was  Jean  d'Udine  who  painted  the  instruments  of  a 
magnificent  St.  Cecilia,  destined  for  the  chapel  of  St. 
Giovanni  in  Monte,  at  Bologna. 

The  case  which  contained  this  picture  was  addressed 
to  Francia,  the  old  friend  of  Raphael,  with  a  request 
that  he  would  attend  to  the  unpacking,  and  repair  what- 
ever injury  the  voyage  should  have  caused  to  the  picture. 
Francia  felt  very  much  flattered  by  the  trust  committed 
to  him ;  but  the  /St.  Cecilia  had  no  need  of  his  pencil. 

Vasari,  in  his  History  of  Painters,  mentions  the 
sending  of  this  picture  to  Francia,  and  adds,  that  this 
artist  was  enchanted  to  see  a  work  of  Raphael,  of  whom 
he  had  heard  so  much  praise  since  they  left  the  studio 
of  Perugino.  The  arrival  of  the  picture  was  announced 
to  him  by  a  very  affectionate  letter  from  his  friend 
Sanzio,  and  accompanied  by  a  design  of  the  Nativity, 
from  the  hand  of  Raphael.  "But,"  added  Vasari, 
*  Francia  was  stupefied  at  the  sight  of  this  admirable  /St. 
Cecilia,  and,  feeling  that  he  was  deceived  in  considering 
himself  a  master,  became*  melancholy,  and  soon  died. 

There  is  reason  to  believe  that  Vasari  was  mistaken 


154  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

on  this  point ;  for,  according  to  other  writers  of  the  time, 
Francia  lived  nineteen  years  after  seeing  Raphael's 
work,  and  he  was  then  tolerably  advanced.  We  prefer 
this  version  to  the  other,  for  Francia's  soul  was  too 
loyal  and  generous  to  be  accessible  to  envy. 

The  reputation  of  Raphael  had  become  European. 
The  celebrated  German  painter,  Albert  Durer,  sent  him 
his  portrait,  painted  in  water  colors.  Raphael  returned 
the  compliment  by  begging  Albert  Durer  to  accept  some 
drawings,  so  highly  finished  that  they  could  be  con- 
sidered real  pictures.  As  to  sending  his  own  portrait, 
he  had  no  time  to  paint  it,  as  he  had  told  Francia,  when 
he  received  a  present  of  his  portrait. 

Albert  Durer  was  not  only  a  painter  of  great  talent, 
but  he  was  likewise  a  very  skilful  engraver.  When 
Raphael  understood  the  method  by  which  this  master 
transmitted  his  works  to  posterity,  he  encouraged  Marc 
Antonio  Raimondi  to  study  this  improved  engraving ; 
and  the  young  man  succeeding  beyond  his  hopes,  he 
employed  him  to  engrave  a  great  number  of  designs, 
which  were  soon  scattered  through  Germany,  France, 
and  Holland,  and  were  everywhere  admired. 

Having  finished  the  second  hall  of  the  Vatican, 
Raphael  gave  the  drawings  for  the  third  haH  to  his  pu- 
pils, and  contented  himself  with  overseeing  and  correct- 
ing their  work.  The  subjects  of  these  frescoes  are  the 
Victory  of  St.  Leon  over  the  Saracens,  the  Justification 
of  Pope  Leo  III.,  and  the  Coronation  of  Charlemagne. 


PAINTERS.  155 

Julio  Romano,  Francesco  Penni,  Jean  d'Udine,  Poli- 
dore  da  Caravaggio,  and  many  other  young  artists,  dis- 
tinguished themselves  in  this  work. 

The  fourth  hall  was  also  commenced,  and  Raphael, 
in  the  fresco  which  represents  the  naval  battle  in  the 
port  of  Ostia,  gained  over  the  Saracens,  and  in  which 
the  burning  of  Borgo  Vecchio  is  stopped  by  the  benedic- 
tion of  Pope  Leo  IV.,  exceeded  his  previous  works. 

By  the  boldness  of  expression  which  Raphael  gave  to 
this  picture,  he  made  it  terrific ;  his  sweet  and  graceful 
manner  was  so  much  changed,  that  Michael  Angelo, 
seeing  it,  cried  out,  — 

"  He  has  seen  my  paintings  !  " 

And  so  he  had,  for  in  spite  of  the  precautions  which 
Buonarotti  had  taken  (when  forced  by  Leo  X.  to  finish 
the  decoration  of  the  Sistine  chapel)  that  no  one  should 
see  his  work  before  it  was  finished,  the  architect  Bra- 
mante  introduced  Raphael  secretly,  in  Michael  Angelo's 
absence,  so  that  he  had  leisure  to  study  the  energetic 
and  sublime  paintings  of  this  old  sculptor. 

However  it  might  be,  Raphael's  triumph  was  com- 
plete;  and  Leo  X.,  not  knowing  how  he  could  recom- 
pense such  a  genius,  offered  him  a  cardinal's  hat,  and  at 
the  same  time  Cardinal  di  St.  Bibiane  offered  him  the  hand 
of  his  niece,  one  of  the  richest  and  handsomest  women 
of  Rome.  Raphael,  not  knowing  which  of  the  offers  to 
accept,  refused  neither,  and  asked  time  to  decide. 

It  is  certain  that  with  the  creation  of  some  new  piece 


156  THE   PRINCES   OF   AKT. 

almost  daily,  the  illustrious  artist  had  no  time  to  deter- 
mine promptly  upon  so  weighty  a  matter.  He  received 
orders  from  all  quarters ;  princes  and  kings  demanded 
his  pictures,  or  even  less  than  that,  a  drawing  only,  if 
he  could  not  send  pictures. 

The  Pope  had  appointed  him  architect,  then  director- 
in-chief  of  antiquities,  and  these  two  places  increased 
his  labors.  He  not  only  directed  the  excavations  in 
Rome,  but,  knowing  that  the  Roman  art  was  derived 
from  the  Greek,  he  sent  artists  into  Southern  Italy  and 
Greece,  to  collect  and  send  to  him  all  the  designs,  or 
precious  fragments,  they  could  find.  He  had  to  corre- 
spond with  all  these  young  people,  to  classify  all  that  he 
received  from  them ;  and  if  we  think  of  the  decoration 
of  the  Vatican  halls,  and  the  court  of  the  Loggie,  with 
which  he  was  busily  occupied,  and  besides  that  he  must 
now  and  then  paint  a  picture  for  a  church,  a  convent, 
or  a  palace,  we  find  it  difficult  to  understand  how  he 
could  have  done  it  all,  notwithstanding  the  cooperation 
of  zealous  and  devoted  pupils. 

These  pupils  were  numerous  ;  and  when  Raphael  went 
with  them  to  the  Vatican  or  the  Loggie,  many  of  his 
admirers  joined  them,  making  a  very  imposing  train  of 
attendants.  One  day,  Michael  Angelo,  who  always 
went  alone,  seeing  Raphael  surrounded  by  this  brilliant 
suite,  murmured  with  some  bitterness,  — 

"  Accompanied  like  a  king  !  " 

"Alone,  like  a  hangman  !  "  replied  Raphael. 


PAINTERS.  157 

This  meeting  furnished  the  subject  for  a  large  picture, 
by  one  of  the  best  French  artists,  M.  H.  Vernet :  it  is 
in  the  Luxembourg  Museum. 

The  nuns  of  St.  Marie  di  Palermo  begged  Raphael  to 
paint  a  Christ  bearing  his  Cross,  for  their  convent ; 
and  he  produced  a  Man-God,  whose  sufferings,  resigna- 
tion, and  charity  were  expressed  with  so  much  truth, 
that  those  who  saw  it  cried  out,  "  It  is  a  miracle  ! " 
The  enthusiasm  was  so  great,  that  Raphael  hastened  to 
pack  it,  fearing  it  would  not  be  sent  to  its  destination. 

The  vessel  which  carried  this  chef-d'oeuvre  was  beaten 
by  a  tempest,  and  cast  upon  the  rocks,  where  it  broke. 
The  crew  all  perished ;  the  merchandise  was  lost,  ex- 
cepting one  case,  which  the  waves  carried  to  the  coast 
of  Genoa.  Some  fishermen,  seeing  it,  put  a  boat  to  sea, 
and  took  the  case  into  port,  where  it  was  opened. 
There  they  found  Raphael's  picture  intact :  the  winds 
and  waves  had  respected  it ! 

The  Genoese,  thinking  they  could  retain  this  strayed 
picture,  were  much  delighted ;  but  the  good  nuns  of 
Palermo,  uneasy  at  not  having  their  picture,  finally 
learned  that,  by  a  marvellous  chance,  it  had  arrived  safe 
and  sound  at  Genoa.  They  immediately  claimed  it, 
and  were  refused ;  they  then  complained  to  the  Pope, 
who  had  some  difficulty  in  causing  it  to  be  restored  to 
the  right  owners. 

It  was  a  day  of  great  rejoicing  for  the  convent  of 
Notre  Dame  when  the  Christ  bearing  his  Cross  was 


158  THE   PEINCES   OF  ART. 

placed  in  their  church ;  nothing  as  beautiful  had  ever 
been  seen  in  Palermo,  and  the  monastery  was  visited 
by  all  the  artists  and  amateurs  of  Sicily. 

This  picture,  della  Spasimo,  as  they  called  it,  was 
ranked  among  the  things  which  every  stranger  passing 
through  Palermo  was  expected  to  see.  The  good  sis- 
ters were  very  proud  of  it,  but  they  soon  found  that  ob- 
scurity is  the  surest  guardian  to  happiness. 

Philip  IV.,  travelling  through  Sicily,  saw  their  treas- 
ure, and,  though  a  king,  was  jealous  of  it.  As  a  king 
has  many  means  of  gratifying  his  covetousness,  one  day, 
or  rather  one  night,  Lo  Spasimo  was  carried  from  the 
chapel  and  taken  to  Spain.  What  surprise  and  grief 
the  next  morning  !  The  nuns  complained  bitterly  of  the 
theft,  and  again  had  recourse  to  the  Pope ;  but  Philip, 
rejoicing  in  his  trick,  had  no  idea  of  giving  up  his  prize. 
However,  he  acknowledged  that  the  convent  was  right  in 
complaining,  and  resolved  to  indemnify  it  for  the  loss. 
He  offered  an  annuity  of  a  thousand  piastres,  which 
was  accepted,  and  thus  the  picture  became  his  legitimate 
property. 

This  picture  was  sent  to  Paris  by  Napoleon's  generals, 
during  the  war  with  Spain,  and  remained  there  six 
years ;  but  in  1816  it  was  given  back,  and  placed  in  the 
royal  gallery  of  Madrid,  of  which  it  is  still  the  finest 
ornament. 

Raphael  painted  the  victories  of  Constantine,  in  the 
great  hall  of  the  Vatican.  This  was  his  first  attempt 


PAINTERS.  159 

in  the  grandiose  manner,  which  is  called  his  third  style. 
In  this  he  succeeded  equally  as  well  as  in  the  other  two 
styles,  and  it  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  en- 
thusiasm which  these  paintings  excited. 

Pope  Leo  X.  desired  Eaphael  to  draw  designs  for  the 
tapestries  which  he  intended  to  have  made  in  Flanders, 
for  the  Sistine  chapel.  Sanzio  drew  and  colored  mag- 
nificent cartoons,  which  he  delivered  to  two  of  his  best 
pupils,  Van  Orlay  of  Brussels,  and  Coxis  of  Malines, 
giving  them  orders  to  superintend  these  rich  tapestries.' 
These  cartoons  are  now  to  be  seen  in  the  palace  of 
Hampton  Court,  in  England. 

After  this,  Sanzio  painted  his  famous  picture  of  the 
Transfiguration  of  Christ.  The  picture  is  regarded 
as  the  best  of  all  his  masterpieces.  One  can  never 
weary  of  admiring  its  beautiful  figures  ;  those  heads,  of 
such  varied  expression,  of  style  so  noble  and  elevated, 
as  if  enlightened  by  a  ray  of  divine  glory  :  but  the  head 
of  Christ  exceeds  all  that  art  has  produced  in  majesty 
and  beauty. 

This  most  sublime  creation  of  Raphael  was  his  last. 
The  Transfiguration  was  unfinished  when  he  died. 

According  to  an  old  document,  found  in  Rome, 
the  cause  of  his  premature  death  was  as  follows : 
One  day,  when  Raphael,  who  was  indisposed,  was 
working  in  the  palace  Farnese,  he  received  an  order  to 
go  to  the  Pope.  Fearing  that  his  holiness  might  be 
waiting  for  him,  he  ran  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  ar- 


160  THE   PKINCES   OF  ART. 

rived  at  the  Vatican  covered  with  perspiration,  and  out 
of  breath.  He  remained  for  some  time,  discussing  the 
plan  of  St.  Peter's,  which  then  preoccupied  Leo  X. 
He  became  chilly,  perspiration  was  checked,  and  he  re- 
turned home,  seized  with  a  violent  fever,  which  con- 
ducted him  to  the  tomb  in  a  few  days. 

Raphael  was  very  delicate ;  one  might  say  that  he 
was  all  spirit  and  genius,  and  it  is  difficult  to  under- 
stand how,  working  as  much  as  he  did,  he  could  attain 
the  age  of  thirty-seven  years.  Too  great  a  love  of 
pleasure  also  contributed  to  hasten  his  end,  which  he 
saw  approaching,  if  not  without  regret,  at  least  without 
a  murmur.  He  told  his  pupils  that  he  had  but  a  few 
moments  to  pass  with  them ;  he  consoled  them  in  their 
profound  affection,  addressed  words  of  encouragement 
to  each  of  them,  predicted  their  success,  took  leave  of 
them,  and  asked  the  succor  of  religion.  His  calmness 
never  left  him,  and  those  who  saw  him  so  smiling  could 
not  believe  that  he  was  so  soon  to  finish  his  brilliant 
career.  Finally,  on  the  7th  of  April,  on  Holy  Friday 
of  1520,  he  gave  up  his  soul  to  Him  who  had  so  richly 
endowed  it. 

The  Pope,  being  informed  that  his  beloved  painter 
was  no  more,  fell  into  profound  dejection,  from  which 
he  rallied  only  by  shedding  abundant  tears  :  he  declared 
that  he  had  lost  the  most  beautiful  jewel  of  his  tiara. 
All  Rome  was  in  mourning ;  every  one  wept  as  if  he 
had  lost  a  relation,  or  a  friend.  Raphael  was  laid  out 


PAINTERS.  161 

in  his  studio,  and  the  wonderful  picture  of  the  Trans- 
figuration was  placed  at  his  head.  The  number  of 
visitors,  which  was  immense,  could  not  restrain  the  testi- 
mony of  their  admiration  of  the  picture,  or  their  tears  at 
the  sight  of  the  beautiful  young  man,  sleeping  in  death, 
who,  if  God  had  permitted  him  to  attain  the  ordinary 
limits  of  human  life,  would  have  done  so  much  for  art. 

Leo  X.  ordered  that  the  body  of  the  artist  should  be 
deposited  in  the  Pantheon,  as  he  had  desired,  and  Car- 
dinal Bembo  was  charged  with  writing  his  epitaph. 

According  to  Raphael's  will,  his  fortune,  which  was 
great,  was  divided  between  Francesco  Penni,  surnamed 
il  Frattore,  because  he  had  had  the  direction  of  all  the 
affairs  of  the  great  artist,  and  Giulio  Pippi,  better 
known  as  Julio  Eomano,  one  who  was  dearest  to  his 
heart.  Both  were  Raphael's  pupils,  and  had  the  charge 
of  finishing  the  works  which  he  left  incomplete ;  they 
acquitted  themselves  of  the  duty  with  religious  respect. 

One  of  the  clauses  of  this  will  appropriated  a  con- 
siderable sum  to  the  restoration  of  one  of  the  chapels  of 
the  church  of  Santa  Maria  della  Rotunda ;  and  one  of 
the  houses  which  Raphael  owned  in  Rome  bears  an  in- 
scription, stating  that  this  real  estate  guarantees  the 
payment  of  the  annual  rent  due  to  this  chapel. 

For  a  long  time  the  academicians  of  St.  Luke  thought 

they  possessed   the   cranium   of  Raphael,   but   Doctor 

Gall,   to   whom  the   cranium  was    submitted   when  in 

Rome,  declared  that  it  was   impossible   that  it  should 

11 


162  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

have  belonged  to  a  man  of  genius.  Differences  having 
arisen  between  the  Academy  of  St.  Luke  and  another 
learned  society,  which  claimed  this  head  as  that  of  its 
founder,  the  Pope  ordered  that  the  mortal  remains  of 
the  illustrious  painter  should  be  exhumed. 

Then  it  was  seen  that  the  skeleton  of  Eaphael  had  not 
been  mutilated.  His  precious  bones  were  exposed  some 
days  to  public  view,  then  put  into  a  marble  case  pre- 
sented by  the  Pope,  and,  with  great  pomp  and  ceremony, 
placed  where,  according  to  his  wish,  he  had  been  at  first 
interred ;  that  is  to  say,  in  that  same  chapel  of  Santa 
Maria  della  Rotunda,  called  the  chapel  della  Madonna 
del  $asso,  which  the  great  painter  had  ornamented  with 
magnificent  works.  Never  was  an  artist  more  esteemed, 
or  more  generally  beloved,  than  Raphael,  nor  was  there 
ever  a  person  more  deserving  of  admiration  and  love. 
He  remained  simple  in  the  midst  of  grandeur,  modest  at 
the  height  of  glory,  faithful  to  gratitude  and  friendship. 
By  his  rare  qualities  he  enhanced  the  brilliancy  of  his 
incomparable  genius. 


CORREGGIO. 

Antonio  Allegri  owed  his  surname  of  Correggio  to 
the  village  of  Correggio,  where  he  was  born  in  1494, 
of  an  honest,  but  poor  family.  He  passed  his  infancy 
and  youth  in  obscurity,  but  he  had  received  of  God  that 


PAINTEKS.  163 

creative  genius  which,  without  a  teacher,  without  models, 
with  no  borrowed  assistance,  knows  how  to  produce  ad- 
mirable works .  Correggio  found  within  himself  the  talent 
which  he  developed  by  labor  and  the  study  of  nature. 

Which  his  first  works  are,  is  not  known,  but  all  the 
compositions  which  he  has  left  are  masterpieces.  He 
consecrated  the  fruit  of  his  first  productions  to  the  sus- 
tenance of  his  parents  :  when  married,  and  the  father  of 
a  numerous  family,  he  redoubled  his  ardor,  that  no  one 
under  his  humble  roof  should  suffer  for  the  necessaries 
of  life.  Gentle,  modest,  and  excessively  timid,  Antonio 
never  thought  a  picture  sufficiently  well  finished,  and 
was  satisfied  with  whatever  recompense  he  received  for 
his  work.  Without  doubt  he  had  heard  of  those  happy 
painters,  whose  pictures  were  covered  with  gold  by  ama- 
teurs, and  whom  princes  loaded  with  presents  and  honors. 
To  think  of  such  success  for  himself  was  out  of  the 
question  :  he  wished  but  for  one  thing,  to  be  able  to  make 
his  wife  and  children  comfortable.  Yet  he  was  conscious 
of  his  own  merit,  for  one  day,  after  having  admired  a 
picture  of  Eaphael's,  he  cried  out,  on  comparing  it  with 
his  own  work,  — 

"  I,  also,  am  a  painter  I  " 

Correggio's  principal  works  are  at  Parma.  He  paint- 
ed some  magnificent  frescoes  in  the  grand  tribune  of  the 
cathedral  of  that  city,  for  which  he  received  in  payment 
a  few  sacks  of  corn,  some  wood,  and  a  little  money. 
Afterwards  he  painted  the  cupola  of  St.  John,  and  that 


164  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

of  the  dome  of  the  cathedral.  The  Ascension  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  the  Assumption  of  the  Virgin,  represented 
there,  are  two  admirable  compositions,  in  which,  besides 
the  majesty  and  grace  which  characterize  all  his  works, 
he  had  displayed  a  wonderful  knowledge  of  foreshorten- 
ing, inasmuch  as  he  never  had  any  instruction,  and  had 
never  studied  the  chefs-d'oeuvre  of  Rome  and  Venice. 

Having  deducted  from  his  modest  salary  the  sum 
rigorously  necessary  for  the  subsistence  of  his  family, 
Correggio  used  the  remainder  in  the  purchase  of  the 
canvas  and  colors  which  he  needed  for  new  pictures,  and 
continued  his  work  with  exemplary  courage.  His  wife 
sustained  him  in  the  hope  of  better  days  ;  she  recognized 
and  admired  the  genius  which  was  unappreciated  until 
after  his  death. 

In  this  way  Antonio  painted  many  pictures,  the  most 
celebrated  of  which  are,  the  Nativity  of  our  Savior, 
St.  Jerome,  the  Magdalen,  a  Holy  Family,  the  Mar- 
riage of  $t.  Catherine,  now  in  the  Museum  of  the 
Louvre ;  a  Christ  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  which  the 
unfortunate  artist  was  obliged  to  give  up  for  a  debt  of 
four  crowns ;  some  mythological  scenes,  and  the  Night, 
in  the  Gallery  of  Dresden,  which,  except  to  Raphael's 
Virgin,  is  considered  as  the  most  precious  jewel  in  that 
rich  casket. 

But  all  the  assiduity  of  Correggio  was  insufficient  to 
drive  misery  from  his  humble  dwelling.  The  children 
were  growing,  and  bread  was  becoming  necessary  for 


PAINTERS.  165 

those  for  whom  the  milk  of  the  mother  had  for  a  time 
sufficed.  Sickness  also  came  upon  the  family,  and  there 
was  no  bread  in  the  house.  The  provisions  were  almost 
exhausted,  and  Antonio,  fearing  to  hear  his  children  say 
those  cruel  words,  which,  several  times,  had  almost  bro- 
ken his  heart,  "  I  am  hungry,"  set  out  to  procure  some 
assistance. 

There  were  sixty  crowns  due  to  him  in  Parma :  this 
seemed  an  enormous  sum  to  people  reduced  to  misery. 
Correggio  had  several  times  asked  payment,  but  the 
subaltern  employers,  with  whom  he  dealt,  always  de- 
ferred a  settlement.  Disagreeable  as  it  was  to  ask  so 
often  for  his  due,  he  armed  himself  with  courage,  and, 
taking  his  cane,  went  to  Parma,  where,  after  much 
trouble  and  disputing,  he  finally  obtained  a  settlement. 
They  paid  him  the  sixty  crowns  in  copper  money ;  and 
the  poor  artist,  happy  in  the  thought  of  the  joy  which 
he  should  carry  to  his  wife  and  children,  gayly  took  the 
heavy  load  upon  his  shoulders  and  set  out. 

The  heat  was  excessive,  and  Correggio,  enfeebled  by 
fatigues  and  privations  of  all  sorts,  was  soon  obliged  to 
slacken  his  pace.  He  thought  of  waiting  till  the  mor- 
row, but  the  idea  that  his  children  were  crying  for  bread 
caused  him  to  press  forward :  he  arrived  at  his  house 
before  sunset,  panting  for  breath,  bathed  in  sweat,  and 
nearly  exhausted.  Being  very  thirsty,  and  having  noth- 
ing but  water,  he  drank  a  large  quantity  :  that  night  he 
was  seized  with  a  violent  fever,  which  caused  the  death 
of  this  great  man,  who  was  not  yet  forty  years  old. 


166  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

Nature  has  reproduced  herself  in  all  the  works  of  this 
eminent  artist,  and  none  of  the  geniuses  spoken  of  in 
this  history,  not  even  the  divine  Raphael,  has  succeeded 
in  giving  to  his  compositions  the  grace  which  character- 
izes those  of  Correggio.  Without  having  learned  the 
secrets  of  his  art  from  any  master,  without  having  stud- 
ied antiquity,  without  having  left  his  own  country, 
Antonio  Allegri  raised  himself  by  his  genius  to  the 
rank  of  one  of  the  first  painters  in  the  world.  If  he  can 
be  reproached  with  slight  incorrectness,  and  sometimes 
a  certain  singularity  in  the  air  of  the  head,  the  attitudes 
and  contrasts,  he  overbalances  these  defects  by  such 
great  qualities,  that  they  seem  only  as  shadows  destined 
to  throw  out  the  light.  The  rich  arrangement  of  his 
compositions,  an  elevated  taste,  delicate  and  tender  pen- 
cilling, a  large  and  powerful  manner,  an  enchanting 
color,  and  something  vague,  sweet,  and  soft,  which  the 
Italians  call  rtorbidezza,  and  which  can  hardly  be  ex- 
pressed in  English,  gave  an  inimitable  charm  to  his 
pictures. 

Contemplating  the  beautiful  works  of  Correggio  in  the 
Paris  museums,  one  understands  all  that  there  was  un- 
utterable and  bitter  at  the  same  time  in  the  words  of 
Antonio,  the  poor  countryman,  who  hardly  earned  as 
much  as  the  mercenary  laborer  of  the  soil :  "I,  also,  am 
a  painter  !  "  And  one  is  seized  with  profound  pity  for 
this  man,  so  grand,  so  simple,  so  good,  whose  crown 
of  genius  was  a  crown  of  thorns.  It  is  not  rare  to  see 


PAINTERS.  167 

artists  expiate  glory  by  grief,  and  he  will  not  be  the 
only  one  whose  fate  will  excite  the  sympathy  of  our 
readers. 

Correggio  has  left  only  a  small  number  of  drawings, 
and  his  only  pupil  was  Francesco  Mazzuoli,  who  became 
celebrated  under  the  name  of  Parmesan.  After  the 
death  of  this  incomparable  man  many  painters  studied  his 
works,  and  were  inspired  by  his  genius. 


PAUL  VERONESE. 

Paul  Cagliari  was  born  at  Verona,  in  1532.  His 
father,  who  was  a  sculptor,  desiring  that  his  son  might 
pursue  the  same  calling,  taught  him  the  principles  of 
drawing.  Paul  manifested  a  great  inclination  for  this 
study,  but  he  could  not  succeed  in  working  clay  and 
wax,  and  showed  very  little  taste  for  this  essential  part 
of  the  art.  His  ill  success  did  not  trouble  him :  he 
wished  to  be  a  painter,  and  so  often  deserted  the  studio 
of  his  father  for  that  of  his  uncle,  Antonio  Badile,  that 
he  was  finally  permitted  to  leave  it  entirely. 

Antonio,  though  not  a  first  class  painter,  was  not 
wanting  in  talent,  and  the  young  Cagliari  had  so  great  a 
desire  to  learn,  and  so  much  natural  facility,  that  his 
progress  astonished,  not  only  his  family,  but  the  am- 
ateurs of  painting  who  frequented  the  house  of  Master 
Badile.  Every  one  predicted  brilliant  success,  and 
Antonio,  one  day,  said  to  him,  — 


168  THE    PKINCES    OF   ART. 

"Despite  your  youth,  you  are  more  skilful  than  I,  my 
dear  nephew ;  but  it  will  not  be  sufficient  that  you  are 
the  first  artist  of  Yerona :  there  are  in  the  world  many 
great  works  to  be  studied,  many  masters  to  be  consulted, 
and  as  I  depend  more  upon  your  talent  than  mine  to 
bring  my  name  into  honor,  I  advise  you  to  visit  Venice, 
Florence,  and  Rome.  One  has  never  done  well  enough, 
when  one  can  do  better ;  one  never  knows  enough,  when 
he  can  learn  more." 

This  advice  was  quite  to  Paul's  mind,  for  he  had  long 
desired  to  travel.  But  his  father's  ideas  were  different ; 
he  was  growing  old,  and,  preferring  the  solid  to  the 
brilliant,  he  would  have  liked  that  the  young  man  should 
establish  himself  near  him,  and  by  his  labor  create  and 
assure  a  fixed,  though  modest,  position.  Antonio  Ba- 
dile  was  obliged  repeatedly  to  point  out  the  great  destiny 
in  reserve  for  his  son,  and  to  urge  him  to  decide  upon  his 
departure. 

At  length -Paul  left  Yerona,  promising  himself  not  to 
return  until  he  should  have  visited  all  Italy,  and  become 
a  great  artist.  The  Cardinal  di  Gonzaga,  who  had 
seen  some  of  his  works,  called  him  to  Mantua,  and  the 
young  painter,  happy  to  commence  his  career  under  the 
patronage  of  so  powerful  and  enlightened  a  man,  ac- 
cepted this  invitation  with  gratitude.  The  cardinal 
treated  him,  not  as  a  beginner  who  gave  great  hopes, 
but  as  an  artist  already  celebrated ;  and  this  reception 
inspired  Cagliari  with  an  ardent  desire  to  show  himself 


PAINTEES.  169 

worthy  of  such  distinguished  benevolence,  and  he  im- 
mediately began  to  work. 

The  Temptation  of  St.  Anthony,  which  he  made  for 
the  church  of  Mantua,  excited  public  admiration,  and 
the  cardinal  made  him  brilliant  offers  to  remain  with 
him.  Cagliari  would  have  accepted,  for  he  loved  his 
protector,  and  he  could  hardly  expect  more  flattering 
applause  or  more  perfect  kindness  ;  but  he  remembered 
his  uncle's  advice,  and  begged  the  cardinal  to  permit 
him  to  follow  it.  The  cardinal  made  no  great  opposi- 
tion;  and  the  young  artist,  laden  with  presents,  de- 
parted, filled  with  gratitude  for  the  noble  hospitality 
which  had  been  accorded  him  at  Mantua. 

At  that  time  there  were  -many  great  painters  at  Ven- 
ice —  Titian,  Giorgione,  and  Tintoretto  :  Paul  went  to 
Venice,  where  he  soon  gained  a  good  reputation.  Tin- 
toretto, who,  by  patience  and  perseverance,  had  acquired 
a  remarkable  talent,  and  who  had  had  much  difficulty  in 
overcoming  the  obstacles  which  rivals  opposed  to  him, 
was  then  occupied  in  paintings  ordered  by  the  Senate. 
When  the  Senate  saw  Veronese's  pictures,  in  which  they 
observed  as  much  boldness  as  grace,  as  much  force  as 
ease,  and  a  faithful  rendering  of  nature,  they  associated 
him  with  Tintoretto. 

Tintoretto  was  not  jealous  at  seeing  himself  associated 
with  a  strange  artist ;  Cagliari,  on  his  part,  professing 
the  highest  esteem  for  Tintoretto,  who  was  self-taught, 
did  not  fear  to  manifest  it ;  and  as  Tintoretto  worked 


170  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

%• 

for  the  love  of  work,  Paul  Veronese  for  the  love  of 
glory,  and  neither  of  the  two  demeaned  themselves  to 
vile  calculations  of  interest,  their  rivalry  was  only  a 
noble  emulation,  in  which  was  no  mean  sentiment. 

Among  the  works  which  Cagliari  produced  at  this  time 
is  a  fresco,  representing  Queen  Esther  before  Ahasuerus. 
This  magnificent  composition  excited  great  enthusiasm 
in  Venice,  and  the  republic  engaged  the  author  of  it  to 
decorate  the  Library  of  St.  Mark.  Paul,  who  had  fol- 
lowed the  manner  of  Titian,  of  Giorgione,  and  of  Tin- 
toretto, his  rival,  now  began  to  form  a  manner  of  his 
own,  in  which  he  could  give  himself  up  entirely  to  the 
inspirations  of  his  genius. 

Thenceforward  Veronese  was  considered  one  of  the 
most  able  painters  in  the  world.  But  he  did  not  allow 
himself  to  be  blinded  by  success ;  he  left  Venice,  and 
went  to  Rome,  not  doubting  that  the  studies  of  the 
chefs-d'oeuvre  of  Michael  Angelo  and  of  Eaphael 
might  be  profitable  to  him.  He  admired  the  sublime 
compositions  of  those  illustrious  masters,  and  spent  con- 
siderable time  in  Eome,  occupied  in  the  contemplation 
of  these  wonders.  He  might,  perhaps,  have  forgotten 
himself  for  years,  had  he  not  promised  to  return  to 
Venice.  The  Senate  reminded  him  of  his  engagement 
through  the  ambassador  Girolamo  Grimani,  in  whose 
company  he  had  made  the  journey. 

On  his  return  to  Venice,  Paul  painted  the  Apotheosis 
of  Venice,  with  his  enthusiasm  exalted  by  the  remem- 


PAINTERS.  171 

brance  of  the  beautiful  paintings  he  had  seen :  this  pic- 
ture received  unanimous  applause.  Antonio  Badile  was 
not  deceived  in  predicting  that  his  nephew  would  be  a 
great  artist,  and  Veronese  had  done  well  in  following 
the  advice  of  this  worthy  relation  :  "  One  is  never  suffi- 
ciently learned  when  there  is  more  to  be  learned." 

Other  works,  still  more  remarkable,  succeeded  the 
Apotheosis  of  Venice.  Paul  Veronese  excelled  in 
grand  compositions.  His  vivacious,  elevated,  and  fruit- 
ful imagination,  his  delicate,  sure,  and  easy  pencil,  his 
talent  to  decorate  the  background  of  his  paintings,  his 
taste  for  rich  and  varied  ornament,  were  better  adapted 
to  immense  than  to  more  restrained  pictures.  The  Ban- 
quets of  this  artist  are  all  that  can  be  desired  in  this  style. 

The  most  celebrated  of  these  pictures  is  the  Mar- 
riage of  Cana,  which  he  painted  for  the  refectory  of 
San  Georgio  Maggiore  at  Venice,  now  in  the  Louvre. 
It  is  thirty  feet  wide  by  twenty  feet  high.  The  scene 
is  a  brilliant  hall,  surrounded  by  majestic  pillars.  The 
tables  at  which  the  guests  are  seated  form  three  sides 
of  a  parallelogram ;  the  guests,  about  one  hundred  and 
thirty  in  number,  are  supposed  to  be  almost  entirely 
contemporary  portraits,  of  admirable  execution.  The 
most  remarkable  feature  is  a  group  of  musicians  in  the 
centre,  in  front,  around  a  table,  also  portraits.  Paul 
Veronese  himself  is  playing  the  violoncello  ;  Tintoretto 
a  smaller  instrument;  'the  gray-haired  Titian,  in  a  red 
damask  robe,  the  contra-bass. 


172  THE   PKINCES   OF  ART. 

Another  not  less  remarkable  composition  is  the  Feast 
of  the  Levite,  in  the  Academy  at  Venice  (formerly  in 
the  refectory  of  San  Giovanni  e  Paolo) .  Louis  XIV. , 
having  heard  of  the  beauty  of  this  picture,  offered  the 
reverend  fathers  a  large  sum  for  it,  which  was  refused. 
They  could  not  think  of  giving  up  this  splendid  picture, 
the  admiration  of  all  the  visitors  to  the  convent.  The 
king,  without  complaining,  let  them  see  how  much  he 
regretted  their  refusal.  Louis  XIV.  was  then  in  the 
fulness  of  his  power ;  and  as  the  displeasure  of  these 
fathers  was  of  little  consequence  to  the  republic,  provided 
that  it  could  satisfy  the  King  of  France,  the  picture  was 
taken  from  the  convent  in  the  night,  and  sent  to  Paris. 

Almost  all  the  capitals  of  Europe  are  proud  to  show 
some  picture  of  this  great  painter,  and  engravings  have 
rendered  them  popular.  He  would  have  left  many 
more,  if  death  had  not  cut  him  off  in  the  plenitude  of 
his  talent,  and  while  the  friends  of  art  were  counting 
upon  years  of  success.  When,  on  Easter  Sunday,  1588, 
it  was  announced  that  Paul  Veronese,  who  had  been 
sick  for  a  few  days,  was  dying,  the  joy  with  which  the 
people  of  Venice  were  celebrating  the  day  was  changed 
to  mourning.  In  him  they  regretted  not  only  the  emi- 
nent artist,  but  the  good  man,  in  the  full  meaning  of 
the  word.  If  the  higher  class  recognized  him  as  one  of 
them,  boasting  of  his  talent,  his  high-mindedness,  and 
the  aristocracy  of  his  language  and  manners,  the  lower 
class  also  boasted  that  he  never  disdained  them ;  they 


PAINTERS.  173 

spoke  of  the  goodness  of  his  heart,  of  his  affability,  and 
related  traits  of  benevolence  and  generosity  which  were 
unknown  during  his  life. 

How  admirable  is  the  alliance  of  genius  with  virtue  ! 
Posterity  will  ever  delight  in  rendering  homage  to  those 
whose  foreheads  are  irradiated  with  this  double  crown. 

No  painter  could  display  all  the  richness  of  his  art 
better  than  Paul  Veronese ;  his  compositions  are  mar- 
vellously imagined,  and  not  less  marvellously  executed ; 
his  positions  are  true,  noble,  and  graceful ;  his  types  are 
of  varied  and  rare  beauty,  his  color  extensive,  and  his 
draperies  of  a  taste  and  magnificence  which  belong  only 
to  him.  However,  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  painter, 
carried  away  by  his  genius,  should  have  failed  in  his- 
torical fitness,  by  giving  to  his  personages  the  faces  and 
costumes  of  the  celebrities  of  his  own  times,  forget- 
ting the  singular  anachronisms  which  result  therefrom. 
Sometimes  he  painted  for  practice  only ;  and  for  this 
reason,  all  his  pictures  are  not  equally  beautiful. 

Paul  Veronese  has  left  a  great  number  of  drawings, 
which  amateurs  consider  as  very  precious,  and  never 
tire  of  admiring  their  fine  arrangement  and  numerous 
details.  He  has  also  left  some  crayon  studies. 

The  painter  honored  his  art  by  the  noble  and  disin- 
terested manner  in  which  he  exercised  it :  the  matter  of 
money-making  never  entered  into  any  of  his  plans,  and 
he  never  thought  of  what  his  pictures  would  bring,  ex- 
cepting when  he  wished  to  aid  some  unfortunate  person , 
or  some  artist  without  resources. 


174  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

It  is  said,  that,  being  much  pleased  by  the  manner  in 
which  he  was  received  in  a  country-house  in  the  suburbs 
of  Venice,  he  testified  his  gratitude  by  a  present  of  one 
of  his  pictures.  During  his  sojourn  in  that  villa,  he 
secretly  painted  a  picture  representing  the  family  of 
Darius  at  the  feet  of  Alexander,  and  left  it  in  the  cham- 
ber when  he  departed.  In  this  picture,  twenty  figures, 
of  life-size,  were  painted  in  a  very  short  time,  and  by 
snatches ;  but  it  is  none  the  less  a  chef-d'oeuvre. 

Paul  Veronese  died  at  the  age  of  fifty-eight  years. 
He  left  two  sons,  Charles  and  Gabriel,  who  both  fol- 
lowed the  art  of  painting.  Charles  had  much  natural 
taste,  and  might  have  equalled  his  father,  had  not  too 
severe  application  abridged  his  life.  Gabriel  painted 
only  as  an  amateur ;  however,  with  the  assistance  of  his 
uncle,  Benoit  Cagliari,  he  completed  many  unfinished 
pictures  left  by  Paul  Veronese.  Benoit,  Paul's  brother, 
had  often  worked  with  the  great  artist ;  yet,  modest  as 
industrious,  he  little  thought  of  the  reputation  he  could 
acquire  by  claiming  some  of  the  works  which  they  had 
done  in  common. 

Alexander  Veronese  was  not  of  the  same  family. 
The  surname  of  Veronese  was  given  to  him,  as  to  Paul, 
from  the  city  of  Verona,  his  birthplace.  Vigorous  col- 
oring, correct  drawing,  and  graceful  pencilling  distin- 
guish the  pictures  of  this  artist ;  but  they  cannot  be 
compared  to  those  of  the  painter  whose  history  we  have 
given. 


PAINTERS.  175 


Guido  Eeni  was  born  at  Bologna,  in  1575.  Daniel 
Eeni,  his  father,  was  a  flute-player,  and  destined  him, 
when  quite  young,  to  music.  He  applied  himself  to  it 
to  satisfy  his  parents  ;  but  he  had  much  more  taste  for 
painting:  when  he  knew  that  no  one  saw  him,  he  left 
his  piano  to  draw  figures  on  the  walls,  which  he  rubbed 
out  as  soon  as  he  heard  the  least  noise.  With  all  his 
care,  he  was  detected ;  and  his  father,  understanding 
that  he  would  never  make  anything  but  an  ordinary 
musician,  and  hoping  to  make  a  great  painter  of  him, 
placed  him  in  Denis  Calvart's  studio. 

He  never  repented  this  step :  the  young  Reni's  un- 
common powers,  added  to  great  application,  soon  made 
him  one  of  the  best  pupils  of  the  Dutch  painter.  Denis 
was  not  without  talent ;  but  he  had  neither  the  boldness 
of  touch  nor  the  facility  of  execution  which  Guido  pos- 
sessed, and  in  a  few  years  saw  himself  surpassed  by  his 
pupil.  About  this  time,  Louis  Carracci,  aided  by  his 
cousins,  Augustine  and  Hannibal,  founded  a  new  school 
of  painting  at  Bologna,  which  was  to  compete  with  that 
of  Master  Calvart,  and  profess  entirely  different  prin- 
ciples. 

The  manner  of  the  Carracci,  approved  by  some  con- 
noisseurs, greatly  displeased  Denis,  who  declared  him- 
self their  enemy,  and  threatened  to  send  away,  in 


176  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

disgrace,  any  of  his  pupils  who  should  dare  to  imitate 
any  of  these  new  masters.  Meanwhile  Guido  had  been 
struck  by  the  peculiar  character  which  went  out  of  this 
school.  Denis  Calvart  was  attached  to  the  manner  of 
Caravaggio,  who  had  substituted  the  servile  imitation 
of  nature  for  the  study  of  the  beauties  of  antiquity,  and 
the  admirable  compositions  of  Raphael,  of  Michael 
Angelo,  and  of  Titian.  The  Carracci  had  risen  against 
this  pretended  reform ;  they  wished  to  lead  back  paint- 
ing to  the  state  from  whence  Caravaggio  had  made  it 
depart,  to  restore  the  purity  of  drawing,  the  pleasant 
and  flattering  brilliancy  to  color,  and  to  replace  the 
freaks  of  imagination  by  learned  and  graceful  composi- 
tions. 

Guido,  enlightened  by  his  own  genius,  understood 
that  the  efforts  of  the  Carracci  would  be  crowned  with 
success,  and  became  the  secret  partisan  of  their  method. 
It  was  difficult  for  him  to  endure  the  bitter  criticisms 
which  Calvart  made  of  their  works ;  however,  his  mild 
and  timid  disposition,  and  the  respect  which  he  had  for 
his  master,  prevented  his  making  any  manifestation. 
The  jealousy  of  Denis  grew  bitter  in  proportion  as  the 
reputation  of  the  Carracci  increased ;  and,  seeing  that 
his  pupils  did  not  sympathize  with  him  as  he  wished,  he 
burst  into  passionate  reproaches  and  ill  usage. 

After  one  of  these  scenes,  which  took  place  almost 
daily,  Guido  left  Denis  Calvart,  in  company  with  Al- 
bano,  his  prote*ge*,  Guercino,  and  some  other  young  per- 


PAINTERS.  177 

sons,  and  went  to  the  school  of  Carracci,  where  they 
were  admitted  without  difficulty. 

Louis  and  Hannibal  were  not  slow  in  appreciating  the 
talent  of  Guido  ;  and,  foreseeing  that  he  would  do  honor 
to  themselves,  they  taught  him  with  the  utmost  care  and 
attention.  Guido  improved  wonderfully  :  if  he  had  made 
progress  under  the  direction  of  Calvart,  he  could  not  fail 
to  astonish  his  new  masters,  whose  method  appeared  to 
him  as  simple  as  excellent. 

Soon  after  adopting  it,  he  painted  the  picture  of 
Orpheus  and  Eurydice,  a  noble  work,  with  a  vivid 
and  true  coloring,  great  skill  in  chiaro-scuro,  and  an 
easy,  yet  bold  touch.  Young  as  Guido  was,  he  was 
considered  a  good  artist,  and  the  Carracci  put  his  pic- 
ture in  competition  with  that  of  Caravaggio. 

Michael  Angelo  Caravaggio  was  not  a  man  to  bear 
what  he  considered  an  insult  patiently,  and  war  broke 
out  between  these  two  schools.  Guido,  the  object  of 
the  teasing  and  vexatious  annoyance  of  the  partisans  of 
this  artist,  learned  that  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  be  a  re- 
nowned painter  before  being  a  man ;  but  he  showed 
much  wisdom  and  moderation  in  many  encounters,  and 
answered  the  vindictiveness  of  his  enemies  by  saying, — 

"  I  prefer  the  manner  of  the  Carracci  to  that  of  Cara- 
vaggio, because  I  like  the  light  of  day  better  than  the 
darkness  of  night.  I  have  no  objection  to  his  following 
his  taste,  only  let  him  permit  me  to  follow  mine." 

Finally,  the  justice  of  his  remarks  quieted  his  enemies, 
12 


178  THE    PRINCES   OF   ART. 

and  they  allowed  him  to  work  in  peace.  The  felicita- 
tions which  Guido  received  encouraged  him  to  deserve 
them.  He  did  not,  like  many  young  people,  imagine 
that,  because  he  had  been  successful,  he  had  nothing  to 
learn ;  on  the  contrary,  he  redoubled  his  exertions,  and, 
not  content  with  merely  studying  the  works  of  great 
masters,  he  wished  to  imitate  them.  He  copied  the 
beautiful  picture  of  $t.  Cecilia,  which  Rapbfael  sent  to 
Bologna,  and  presented  it  to  Cardinal  Facchinetti,  his 
protector.  Pe9ple  expatiated  upon  the  beauty  of  this 
picture,  and  the  facility  with  which  the  young  artist  had 
imitated  the  incomparable  Raphael ;  and  Guido,  having 
sent  two  other  pictures  to  Rome  about  the  same  time, 
was  invited  to  go  thither. 

Guido,  who  had  long  dreamed  of  Rome,  the  beloved 
city  of  artists,  was  overjoyed.  His  friend  Albano,  al- 
ready there,  had  mentioned  him  to  several  celebrated 
painters.  Albano  had  not  forgotten  all  the  kindnesses 
he  had  received  from  Guido  while  they  were  with  Denis 
Calvart. 

Josepin  gave  Guido  Reni,  in  whom  he  saw  not  only 
the  friend  of  Albano,  but  the  adversary  of  Caravaggio, 
a  very  favorable  reception.  He  presented  him  to  sev- 
eral illustrious  personages,  who  knew  of  him  through 
his  works.  The  fine  appearance  of  the  young  artist,  his 
elegant  manners,  intelligence,  and  charming  conversa- 
tion, completed  what  the  sight  of  his  pictures  had  com- 
menced, and  he  was  not  long  in  becoming  the  painter 


PAINTERS.  179 

d-la-mode.  All  drawing-rooms  were  open  to  him,  and 
people  vied  with  each  other  who  should  first  order  pic- 
tures from  him. 

Jose'pin  had  never  pardoned  Caravaggio  the  victory 
gained  in  a  competition  between  them ;  and,  believing 
Guido  Reni  more  capable  than  himself  to  revenge  this 
defeat,  he  intrigued  with  Cardinal  Borghese,  so  that  a 
Crucifixion  of  St.  Peter  was  taken  from  Caravaggio, 
and  given  to  Guido. 

No  sooner  had  Caravaggio,  who  was  absent  from 
Rome,  heard  what  had  happened,  than  he  challenged 
Jose'pin  to  a  duel.  Jose'pin  refused,  saying  his  title  as 
gentleman  would  not  permit  him  to  fight  with  a  plebeian. 
Caravaggio,  whose  temper  was  violent  and  impetuous, 
was  excited  beyond  measure  at  such  an  answer.  .  He 
resolved  to  go  to  Malta,  and  get  the  order  of  knighthood, 
so  as  to  deprive  his  enemy  of  all  pretext  for  refusing  his 
challenge.  But,  before  leaving,  he  wished  to  see  Guido, 
whom  he  hated,  and  permitted  himself  to  insult  him. 
Reni  answered  in  the  same  tone,  and  Caravaggio,  whose 
fury  deprived  him  of  reason,  seized  a  sword,  and  wounded 
him  badly  in  the  face. 

After  this  exploit  he  fled  from  Rome,  and,  not  giving 
up  the  desire  of  being  revenged  on  Jose'pin,  he  went  to 
Malta,  where  he  obtained  the  title  of  knight,  as  he  de- 
sired. His  violent  temper  led  him  into  many  tragic 
adventures,  which  ended  in  a  miserable  death. 

Guido  recommenced  work  as  soon  as  he  was  cured  of 


180  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

his  wounds.  Paul  V.  selected  him  to  decorate  his  pri- 
vate chapel,  at  the  palace  of  Monte-Cavallo.  A  View 
of  Paradise,  which  he  painted  upon  the  arched  ceiling, 
and  an  Annunciation,  behind  the  grand  altar,  charmed 
the  Pope,  who  never  wearied  of  admiring  the  facility 
with  which  his  painter  worked,  and  the  freedom  of  his 
mind  in  sustaining  conversation,  while  his  pencil  was 
never  still  for  a  moment.  Paul  Y.  went  to  see  his 
chapel  every  day,  and  took  great  pleasure  in  conversing 
with  Guido,  as  Julius  II.  had  with  Michael  Angelo,  and 
Leo  X.  with  Kaphael. 

The  favor  which  Guido  Reni  enjoyed  excited  the  jeal- 
ousy of  some  of  his  rivals.  They  calumniated  him  at  the 
pontifical  court;  and,  having  succeeded  in  influencing 
the  Pope's  treasurer,  they  caused  the  artist  much  trouble. 
Guido,  humiliated  at  being  obliged  to  demand  a  price 
for  his  work,  and  to  barter  with  a  man  whose  ill  will 
was  but  too  evident,  left  Rome  without  saying  a  word 
to  any  one,  and  returned  to  Bologna. 

His  fellow-citizens  received  him  with  the  greatest 
cordiality,  thanked  him  for  returning  to  them,  and  gave 
him  orders  for  pictures*  He  then  painted  the  Apothe- 
osis of  St.  Dominico,  and  the  Massacre  of  the  Inno- 
cents. These  two  pictures  were  not  finished  when  Guido 
received  a  visit  from  the  Legate  of  Bologna,  who  was 
sent  by  the  Pope  to  beg  him  to  go  back  to  Rome. 

Paul  V.  had  heard  of  the  departure  of  his  favorite 
artist  with  as  much  pain  as  surprise ;  and,  not  knowing 


PAINTERS.  181 

the  route  he  had  taken,  he  sent  couriers  in  all  directions, 
with  orders  to  bring  him  back,  after  having  promised 
reparation  for  all  the  injuries  and  annoyances  which  he 
had  sustained.  But  Reni  was  too  far  in  advance  of  the 
couriers  to  be  overtaken,  and  continued  his  route  peace- 
ably to  Bologna ;  meanwhile,  the  Pope  threatened  dis- 
grace to  those  who  had  offended  his  painter,  and  thus 
deprived  Rome  of  eminent  talent.  As  soon  as  he  re- 
ceived the  news  of  Guide's  arrival  in  his  native  town, 
he  wrote  to  his  legate,  ordering  him  to  send  Guido  back 
immediately.  But  Guido  was  not  disposed  to  yield  to  the 
wishes  of  the  legate,  and  it  was  not  until  after  long  nego- 
tiations that  he  at  length  consented  to  return  to  Rome. 

When  the  cardinals  were  informed  of  his  arrival,  they 
sent  their  carriages  before  him,  using  the  ceremonies 
observed  at  the  entrance  of  ambassadors  and  great  per- 
sons, and  Paul  received  him  with  testimonials  of  the  most 
sincere  affection.  He  granted  him  a  large  pension,  gave 
him  a  magnificent  equipage,  and  made  the  enemies  of 
the  painter  understand  that  they  would  not  be  safe  in 
attempting  anything  against  him  in  future. 

Having  finished  the  entire  decorations  of  Monte-Ca- 
vallo,  Guido  undertook  that  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore, 
and  surpassed  himself  in  this  admirable  work.  His 
reputation  increased  so  much,  that,  to  obtain  a  picture, 
it  was  necessary  to  pay  very  dearly  for  the  smallest,  and 
even  before  it  was  commenced.  Princes  and  kings  dis- 
puted for  his  works,  and,  although  he  painted  rapidly, 


182  THE  PRINCES   OF  ART. 

he  could  not  satisfy  them  all.  We  can  judge  of  the 
rapidity  with  which  he  painted,  by  the  fact  that  the 
Duke  John  Charles  of  Tuscany,  having  asked  him  to 
paint  a  head  of  Hercules,  he  did  it  in  the  presence  of 
the  prince,  in  less  than  two  hours.  For  this  head  he 
received  sixty  pistoles,  a  gold  chain,  and  the  medallion 
of  the  duke. 

Out  of  his  studio,  Guido  was  modest,  affable,  and 
full  of  indulgence  and  kindness ;  but  as  a  painter,  he 
was  proud,  ostentatious,  and  haughty.  While  working, 
he  was  magnificently  dressed  ;  and  his  pupils,  ranged  on 
either  side,  listened  to  his  instructions  in  profound  si- 
lence, saw  him  paint,  prepared  his  pallet,  and  cleaned 
his  brushes.  He  never  set  a  price  upon  his  pictures  :  he 
received  a  recompense,  and  not  a  salary.  He  would 
have  lived  in  opulence,  if  he  had  not  been  led  away  by 
the  passion  for  gambling,  to  which  he  sacrificed  enor- 
mous sums. 

New  contrarieties,  caused  by  the  jealousies  of  others, 
induced  Guido  to  leave  Rome  a  second  time,  and  repair 
to  Bologna,  where  he  painted  the  Labors  of  Hercules, 
some  mythological  scenes,  a  Madonna ,  and  an  Annun- 
ciation, which  are  thought  to  be  remarkable  composi- 
sitions.  Each  of.  these  pictures  had  been  ordered  by  a 
king  or  a  sovereign  prince.  No  artist  ever  enjoyed  a 
higher  reputation.  He  was  invited  to  Naples,  where 
important  works  were  confided  to  him ;  but  Ribera  and 
other  Neapolitan  painters  threatening  to  kill  him  if  he 


PAINTERS.  183 

did  not  leave  the  city,  Guido,  who  knew  that  everything 
was  to  be  feared  from  the  envious,  preferred  to  leave 
rather  than  be  the  object  of  their  persecutions.  It  was 
at  about  this  time  that  he  began  to  give  himself  up  to 
his  unbridled  passion  for  gambling.  The  fortune  which 
he  had  so  nobly  acquired  was  swallowed  up  in  a  short 
time  ;  he  had  recourse  to  usurers,  and  when  this  resource 
failed,  he  recommenced  painting.  It  required  vast  sums 
of  gold  to  feed  the  insatiable  passion  for  gambling ;  and 
Guido,  losing  the  respect  he  had  hitherto  had  for  his 
talent,  careless  of  his  glory,  delivered  pictures,  which 
once  he  would  have  blushed  to  sign,  to  any  who  would 
buy  them. 

When  fortune  failed  him,  which  was  often  the  case, 
when  he  had  played  and  lost  some  considerable  sum 
upon  his  word,  he  hastened  to  acquit  himself;  and, 
under  similar  circumstances,  he  has  been  seen  to  paint 
three  pictures  in  one  day.  While  he  was  young  and 
strong,  he  found  in  his  inexhaustible  fecundity  the 
means  of  satisfying  the  emotions  which  soon  become  the 
life  of  the  gambler ;  but  when  age  and  its  emotions 
had  weakened  him,  he  had  recourse  to  his  friends, 
and  made  debts  which  he  found  it  impossible  to  pay. 
Repeated  demands  wearied  those  friends  who  had  at  first 
offered  their  purses  to  him,  and  the  artist,  who  might 
have  been  the  happiest  of  all  Italy,  died  of  chagrin  and 
misery  in  1642. 

The  compositions  of  Guido  are  distinguished  by  rich- 


184  THE    PEINCES   OF   ART. 

ness  and  majesty.  His  pencilling  was  easy,  light,  and 
flowing,  his  touch  vivid,  graceful,  and  full  of  spirit,  his 
drawing  correct,  his  draperies  are  superb,  his  heads  full 
of  expression  and  nobleness,  and  his  complexions  fresh 
and  life-like. 

The  most  perfect  works  which  he  left  are  at  Kome 
and  Bologna.  There  are  also  fine  ones  at  Geneva,  Mo- 
dena,  and  Ravenna,  —  indeed,  in  almost  all  European 
museums.  There  are  many  in  the  Louvre,  among 
which  is  an  Annunciation ,  painted  for  Queen  Marie 
de  Medicis. 

Guido  was  also  a  sculptor,  musician,  and  engraver. 
He  engraved  many  religious  subjects,  painted  by  Han- 
nibal, Carracci,  Parmesan,  and  other  artists,  and  many 
have  engraved  after  him.  His  drawings  are  much  es- 
teemed for  their  boldness  and  delicacy  of  touch,  the 
beauty  of  the  heads,  and  the  great  taste  displayed  in  the 
draperies. 

DOMENICHINO. 

Domenico  Zampieri,  surnamed  Domenichino,  was 
born  at  Bologna,  October  21,  1581.  His  father  was  a 
shoemaker,  who,  thanks  to  his  assiduous  labor,  had 
acquired  a  comfortable  independence,  with  which  he  was 
enabled  to  educate  his  son  as  well  as  the  young  people 
of  the  best  Bolognese  families  were  educated.  Domen- 
ico profited  well  by  the  instructions  which  he  received, 


PAINTERS.  185 

and  was  much  beloved  by  his  teachers  for  his  docility 
and  exemplary  mildness.  Zampieri  possessed  a  good 
heart,  just  principles,  a  modesty  which  sometimes  de- 
generated almost  into  timidity.  His  parents  thought 
him  best  fitted  for  the  ecclesiastical  state,  if  he  showed 
no  dislike  to  the  calling. 

Very  soon  another  vocation  revealed  itself  to  him. 
Pictures  of  the  best  artists,  which  he  contemplated  with 
indescribable  pleasure,  inspired  him  with  a  taste  for 
drawing,  for  which  all  other  studies  were  neglected. 
He  gradually  gave  up  reading,  and  renounced  the 
amusements  natural  to  his  age,  to  employ  the  time 
in  copying,  at  times  badly,  the  engravings  and  draw- 
ings bought  with  the  limited  sums  destined  for  pocket- 
money. 

For  a  while  he  said  nothing  of  the  taste,  which  he 
considered  a  passing  fancy ;  but  when  he  was  sure  that 
nothing  would  please  him  so  much  as  painting,  he  con- 
fided it  to  his  father,  who  loved  him  too  much  to  raise 
objections  to  his  wishes.  He  was  taken  from  college, 
and  placed  under  the  charge  of  Denis  Calvart,  the  Dutch 
painter,  then  in  repute  at  Bologna,  as  the  father  of 
Domenico  preferred  to  confide  his  son  to  him,  rather 
than  to  the  Caravacci,  whose  attempts  at  reform  in  their 
school  had  found  little  favor  with  him. 

Two  of  Calvart's  best  pupils,  Guido  and  Albano, 
had  recently  left  him  to  go  over  to  the  Carracci,  and  the 
jealousy  of  the  foreigner  against  his  rivals  had  much 


186  THE    PEINCES   OF   ART. 

increased.  Unjust,  as  an  envious  person  always  is,  he 
defamed  the  Carracci  unmercifully,  criticised  their  man- 
ner, and  denied  their  talent.  According  to  him,  Louis, 
Augustine,  and  Hannibal  were  ignorant,  ambitious  peo- 
ple ;  and  the  revolution  in  painting,  which  they  were 
trying  to  bring  about,  would  end  in  the  complete  ruin 
of  the  art. 

At  first  the  young  Zampieri  supposed  his  master  was 
right,  and  he  labored  zealously  to  follow  his  instruc- 
tions. But  when  he  had  made  sufficient  progress  to 
judge  for  himself  of  the  merits  of  a  picture,  he  studied 
those  of  the  new  school,  and  found  that  Denis  treated 
the  works  of  the  Carracci  very  severely.  For  himself  he 
observed  that  the  drawing  was  very  correct,  the  coloring 
good,  the  attitudes  noble  and  truthful,  and  that  they  ex- 
celled in  that  in  which  his  master  was  deficient,  a  faith- 
ful imitation  of  nature. 

Zampieri  secretly  procured  some  models  of  the  Car- 
racci, which  he  copied  as  secretly.  Denis  had  ex- 
pressly forbidden  that  any  of  these  models  should  be 
brought  into  his  studio.  It  was  only  in  the  absence  of 
the  master  that  Domenico  substituted^  Carracci's  pictures 
for  those  which  had  been  given  him  to  copy.  One  day, 
while  busily  occupied,  Calvart  unexpectedly  entered,  be- 
fore he  had  time  to  put  away  the  prohibited  model. 

The  master,  in  a  fury,  seized  the  picture,  tore  it  in 
pieces,  and  trampled  it  under  his  feet.  He  abused 
Domenico,  who  dared  not  undertake  to  justify  himself, 


PAINTERS.  187 

and  determined  to  allow  the  storm  to  pass  over.  But 
Denis  was  not  the  man  to  forgive  such  an  offence ;  from 
that  day  Zampieri  became  the  object  of  his  hatred ;  he 
had  no  words  of  kindness  or  encouragement  for  him, 
treating  him  with  harshness  and  despite,  and  predict- 
ing that  he  would  never  be  anything  but  a  dauber. 

With  all  his  mildness  and  patience,  Domenico  be- 
came tired  of  continual  reproaches  and  vexations ;  he 
much  regretted  that  he  had  not  gone  to  the  Carracci 
rather  than  to  this  violent  man,  who  would  not  listen  to 
reason ;  but  he  dared  not  go  away,  and  did  not  tell  his 
father  all  that  he  had  to  suffer.  One  day,  however, 
Denis,  more  irritated  than  usual  against  his  adversa- 
ries, perhaps  because  he  could  not  deny  their  merit, 
criticised  them  with  the  greatest  bitterness,  and  as  usual, 
after  having  vented  his  rage  upon  the  Carracci,  he  turned 
upon  Zampieri. 

"Pardon  me,"  said  the  timid  pupil,  calmly,  "I  had  no 
wish  to  offend  you :  I  thought,  to  become  an  artist,  it  is 
good  to  study  the  works  of  many  masters,  to  imitate 
what  is  good  in  each." 

The  answer  was  just ;  and  precisely  because  it  was  so, 
Calvart  became  furious,  and,  lacking  better  arguments 
to  oppose  to  his  pupil,  he  seized  an  easel  and  struck 
him.  That  was  more  than  Domenico  could  bear :  he 
left  the  studio  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  returned  to 
his  father,  from  whom  he  could  no  longer  conceal  his 
troubles.  Zampieri,  indignant,  gently  reproached  him 


188  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

for  not  having  complained  before :  he  then  went  to 
Louis  Carracci,  to  beg  him  to  take  care  of  his  son. 

Domenico  presented  himself  the  next  morning,  and 
was  received  with  all  the  affection  which  his  suffering 
for  the  cause  of  his  new  masters  induced.  Louis  was 
particularly  friendly  to  him  on  account  of  his  timidity 
and  sweetness,  and  his  feeble  and  slender  appearance  : 
he  gave  him  the  name  of  Domenichino,  little  Domenico, 
a  name  which  he  always  afterwards  bore. 

The  Carracci  were  zealous  and  kind  in  their  teach- 
ings ;  under  their  instruction  Domenichino  made  rapid 
progress.  However,  he  was  not  one  of  those  artists 
who  possess  an  intuitive  knowledge,  and  need  almost  no 
instruction ;  his  genius  was  colder,  more  reflective ;  it 
needed  study  and  labor  to  make  it  fruitful.  Louis  Car- 
racci was  just  the  master  for  such  a  pupil,  for  he  had 
himself  been  accused  of  incapacity  in  his  youth.  He 
made  it  a  point  to  encourage  Domenichino,  and  inspire 
him  with  a  certain  confidence  in  his  own  powers. 

At  first  he  did  not  succeed ;  and  prizes  having  been 
offered  to  those  who  should  paint  best,  in  the  studio, 
Domenichino  refused  to  compete  with  the  other  pupils, 
but  he  painted  the  picture  required.  On  the  day  fixed 
for  the  distribution  of  prizes,  the  work  of  each  was  care- 
fully examined  by  the  three  Carracci :  Louis,  to  whose 
care  Zarnpieri  was  specially  confided,  told  him  that  it 
was  a  pity  he  had  not  tried  his  skill.  Domenichino 
blushed,  went  away  for  a  moment,  and  returned  bring- 


PAINTERS.  189 

ing  a  picture,  which  he  showed  the  professor  with  a 
trembling  hand. 

No  sooner  had  Louis  cast  his  eyes  upon  jt  than  he 
judged  it  worthy  of  being  presented  to  Augustin,  Anni- 
bal,  and  the  amateurs  who  always  united  with  them  in 
deciding  the  merits  of  the  competitors.  Again  they  ex- 
amined all  the  works,  and  compared  them  with  that  of 
Domenichino,  to  which  the  preference  was  unanimously 
accorded.  This  triumph  filled  the  young  artist  with  joy, 
without  enfeebling  his  modesty. 

Albano  was  among  the  number  of  Louis  Carracci's 
pupils.  He  was  charmed  with  the  good  qualities  of 
Domenichino,  and  became  his  intimate  friend  ;  from  that 
time  nothing  was  wanting  to  the  happiness  of  Zampieri, 
until  Albano,  who  was  some  years  the  elder,  left  the 
school  of  Carracci,  and  went  to  Rome,  with  an  ardent 
desire  to  study  the  works  of  the  great  masters.  Anni- 
bal  Carracci  was  there,  and  took  pains  to  get  him  some 
orders,  and  to  introduce  him.  But  Albano  did  not  for- 
get his  friend,  and  after  a  sojourn  of  one  year,  he  sent 
him  several  drawings  which  he  had  made  after  Raphael. 

Domenichino  was  surprised  at  the  progress  which  Al- 
bano had  made,  and  determined  to  go  to  the  city  which 
possessed  so  many  admirable  masterpieces.  Without 
informing  Albano  of  his  intention,  he  unexpectedly  pre- 
sented himself,  and  was  joyfully  received  by  his  friend, 
who  presented  him  to  Ahnibal,  and  he,  in  consequence 
of  the  length  of  time  he  had  been  with  Louis,  allowed 


190  THE    PRINCES   OF   ART. 

him  to  share  his  labors.  Zampieri  appreciated  the  ser- 
vice rendered  by  his  friend,  and  acknowledged  it  with 
the  most  heartfelt  gratitude ;  for  without  this  succor, 
his  timidity  would  have  prevented  his  finding  a  protec- 
tor in  Rome,  where  he  was  unknown. 

Annibal  Carracci  was  painting  the  frescoes  of  the 
Gallery  Farnese,  —  magnificent  pictures,  for  which  the 
artist  had  the  grief  of  being  troubled  concerning  pay- 
ment when  they  were  finished.  Domenichino  was  happy 
to  work  with,  and  receive  the  advice  of  such  a  master. 
All  the  time  which  he  did  not  occupy  in  the  Palace 
Farnese,  he  spent  at  the  Vatican,  before  the  sublime 
compositions  of  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo  ;  this  was 
his  only  amusement. 

Domenichino's  love  of  labor  was  rewarded  by  great 
success,  and  a  picture  of  the  Death  of  Adonis,  con- 
fided to  the  pencil  of  the  young  man  by  Annibal,  pro- 
duced great  sensation  in  the  world  of  artists  and  con- 
noisseurs. This  work  places  Domenichino  at  once  in 
the  rank  of  painters  then  at  Rome.  He  was  not  allowed 
to  enjoy  his  good  fortune  in  peace  :  envy  created  numer- 
ous enemies,  who  persecuted  and  troubled  him  greatly. 
Albano  remained  faithful,  consoled  and  encouraged  him, 
or  tried  to  make  him  despise  the  injustice  of  those  whom 
his  growing  reputation  overshadowed.  Domenichino's 
moderation  was  admirable,  but  his  feelings  were  cruelly 
wounded  at  seeing  those  whom  he  considered  almost 
friends  turn  against  him. 


PAINTERS.  191 

Augustin  Carracci,  jealous,  like  the  rest,  of  this  new 
rising  star,  ranged  himself  with  the  enemies  of  Domeni- 
chino.  The  reflection,  the  slowness  with  which  the 
young  man  worked,  gave  Augustin  the  idea  of  naming 
him  the  Ox  ;  which  name  he  used  in  speaking  either  of 
or  to  him.  Annibal  rarely  agreed  with  his  brother  Au- 
gustin, though  he  loved  him  very  much :  he  defended 
Domenichino,  whose  future  greatness  he  foresaw,  and 
one  day  he  said  to  Augustin,  who  was  using  the  gross 
appellation  of  Ox,  — 

"  If  God  permits  you  and  me  to  live  a  few  years  longer, 
my  brother,  we  shall  see  the  field  of  painting  fertilized 
by  this  ox,  which  ploughs  so  steadily  and  laboriously." 

When  the  Death  of  Adonis  appeared,  Bolognese 
Agucchi  recommended  the  young  Zampieri  to  the  cardi- 
nal, his  brother,  who  promised  to  protect  him  :  but  dis- 
cussions upon  the  merits  of  the  picture  were  caused  by 
the  jealous  painters,  which  cooled  off  their  good  dispo- 
sitions, and  the  cardinal  postponed  the  fulfilment  of  his 
promise.  A  new  work  brought  forth  the  talent  of  Do- 
menichino  into  full  light :  the  Deliverance  of  St.  Peter 
was  much  admired,  and  Cardinal  Agucchi  confided  the 
decoration  of  the  Chapel  of  St.  Onuphre  to  the  modest 
artist. 

Domenichino  acquitted  himself  wonderfully  of  this 
work,  and  showed  himself  from  day  to  day  more  worthy 
of  the  protection  accorded  to  him.  Susanna  and  the 
Elders,  St.  Paul  caught  up  to  Heaven,  a  St.  Francis, 
and  a  St.  Jerome  were  successively  produced. 


192  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

The  charge  for  erecting  a  monument  to  Annibal  Car- 
racci,  who  died  about  this  time,  was  given  to  Domeni- 
chino  :  he  made  a  plan  for  it,  and  did  some  of  the  sculp- 
turing himself ;  he  also  painted  the  portrait  of  him ,  who 
had  been  his  teacher  and  friend,  above  the  monument. 

The  reputation  of  the  young  artist  continually  in- 
creased. Cardinal  Aldobrandini  selected  him  to  deco- 
rate the  Palace  Belvidere  ;  and  some  time  after  Cardinal 
Odoardo  wished  him  to  paint  some  scenes  from  the  life 
of  St.  Bartholomew,  for  the  Abbey  of  Grotta  Ferrata. 
While  occupied  with  the  last  work,  he  chanced  to  see  a 
young  girl  whose  candor  and  modesty  pleased  him,  and 
he  determined  to  ask  her  in  marriage.  Fearing  to  make 
the  proposition,  he  waited  until  his  position  was  sure,  so 
that  he  should  not  be  refused ;  yet,  desirous  to  give  this 
girl,  whom  he  had  approved  in  his  heart,  a  proof  of 
his  sentiments,  he  painted  her,  in  one  of  his  pictures,  in 
the  costume  of  a  page.  The  resemblance  was  so  strik- 
ing, that  the  name  of  the  young  girl  was  circulated  from 
mouth  to  mouth,  and  her  parents,  instead  of  feeling  flat- 
tered, as  Domenichino  supposed  they  would,  were  indig- 
nant ;  and  using  their  influence,  and  that  of  their  friends, 
with  Cardinal  Odoardo,  they  succeeded  in  having  the 
artist  dismissed. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Domenichino  that  Albano  re- 
mained in  Kome,  to  sympathize  with,  and  console  him, 
in  this  new  affliction.  This  friend  procured  for  him 
a  part  of  the  painting  to  be  executed  in  the  Castle  of 


PAINTEKS.  193 

Bassano,  where  he  displayed  so'  much  talent,  that  the 
direction  of  the  frescoes  for  the  Chapel  of  St.  Andrew 
were  confided  to  him. 

There  he  came  in  competition  with  Guido,  whom  he 
had  before  seen  in  the  school  of  the  Carracci.  Domeni- 
chino  painted  a  St.  Andrew  beaten  with  Rods,  and 
Guido  a  St.  Andrew  at  Prayer.  The  work  of  Guido 
was  judged  superior  to  that  of  Domenichino,  and  he  re- 
ceived four  hundred  crowns  for  it,  while  Zampieri  re- 
ceived only  one  hundred  and  fifty  crowns.  Domeni- 
chino felt  this  severely ;  he  had  flattered  himself  that  he 
painted,  at  least,  equal  to  Guido.  He  determined  to 
leave  a  city  where  his  talent  was  so  little  appreciated, 
and  to  return  to  Bologna.  He  was  on  the  point  of  leav- 
ing, when  he  received  an  order  for  the  Communion  of 
St.  Jerome,  for  the  great  altar  of  San  Girolamo.  He 
returned  to  his  pencil,  and  animated  by  the  desire  of  a 
brilliant  revenge  for  the  injustice  which  pursued  him,  he 
produced  a  work  which  deserved  a  place  near  those  of 
the  great  masters.  Every  one  wished  to  see  the  Com- 
munion of  St.  Jerome,  and  all  unprejudiced  connois- 
seurs declared  that  this  excellent  picture  could  be  com- 
pared with  the  Transfiguration  by  Raphael. 

In  presence  of  such  success,  envy,  crushed  by  the 
impossibility  of  contesting  the  beauty  of  this  sublime 
composition,  was  silenced ;  but,  growing  bold,  she  soon 
began  to  murmur  that  it  was  nothing  but  a  copy ;  that  if 
Domenichino  had  succeeded  in  the  painting,  the  idea 
13 


194  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

was  not  his  own,  and  that  he  had  borrowed  it  from  Au- 
guistino  Carracci,  one  of  his  old  enemies.  It  was  true 
that  Augustino  had  touched  this  subject,  but  Domeni- 
chino  had  much  surpassed  him,  and  there  existed  be- 
tween the  two  painters  only  the  analogy,  which  is  so 
often  found  between  those  of  different  masters  who  have 
retraced  the  same  scenes  ;  for  example,  the  Holy  Family 
or  the  Adoration  of  the  Magi. 

Domenichino's  St.  Jerome  was  engraved,  and  spread 
throughout  Europe ;  and  the  reputation  of  the  painter 
threatening  to  obscure  that  of  his  persecutors,  Lanfranc, 
who,  notwithstanding  his  incontestable  talent,  had  taken 
sides  with  the  persecutors  of  Zampieri,  caused  Augus- 
tino Carracci's  picture  to  be  engraved,  hoping  to  dimin- 
ish the  glory  of  Domenichino  by  the  comparison. 

Deeply  afflicted  with  such  proceedings,  and  the  hatred 
which  they  proved,  our  artist,  who  never  injured  any 
one,  and  who  wished  to  love  his  enemies,  was  upon  the 
point  of  leaving  the  field  free  to  their  calumnies,  and 
going  to  live  alone  in  some  secluded  retreat ;  but,  though 
working  hard  and  living  simply,  he  had  not  the  means 
to  pay  his  travelling  expenses.  He  saw  the  pictures  of 
other  artists  covered  with  gold,  and  he  received  but  a 
trifling  sum  for  his.  The  Communion  of  /St.  Jerome, 
which  is  still  considered  a  masterpiece  of  painting, 
brought  him  only  fifty  crowns.  He  was  at  that  time 
obliged  to  contend  with  the  discouragement  which  took 
possession  of  his  soul,  and  find  his  only  comfort  in  assid- 
uous labor. 


PAINTERS.  195 

He  was  charged  to  paint  the  frescoes  in  the  Chapel 
of  St.  Cecilia,  in  the  Church  St.  Louis  des  Fran^ais, 
where  his  work  was  so  satisfactory,  that  they  begged  him 
to  decorate  the  Cathedral  of  Fano.  Domenichino  de- 
sired so  much  to  leave  Rome,  that  he  joyfully  acceded 
to  the  propositions  which  they  made  him,  and  departed, 
happy  to  escape,  at  least  for  a  time,  the  numerous  vex- 
ations which  made  life  a  torment. 

The  family  Nolfi,  at  Fano,  received  him  with  all  the 
distinction  due  to  his  merit,  and  he  set  to  work  with  a 
serenity  of  feeling  which  he  had  not  enjoyed  for  many 
years.  He  learned  to  inspire  his  works  with  his  own 
feelings  ;  the  frescoes  representing  the  history  of  the 
Virgin,  with  which  he  ornamented  the  Cathedral  of 
Fano,  breathed  celestial  happiness.  The  years  which 
he  devoted  to  this  work  were  the  happiest  of  his  life, 
and  he  never  forgot  them.  The  calmness  he  then  en- 
joyed brought  back  the  remembrance  of  his  childhood, 
and  he  wished  to  see  his  native  city  again.  He  hoped 
that  his  fellow-citizens  would  receive  him  as  an  artist  of 
whom  they  could  be  proud.  He  was  doomed  to  be  dis- 
appointed. Bologna  reserved  all  her  sympathy  for 
another  of  her  children,  for  Guido,  who  returned  to  her, 
surrounded  by  princely  splendor,  while  Domenichino 
came  back  as  poor  as  he  left. 

His  hopes  blasted,  he  returned  to  Rome,  but  was 
immediately  recalled  by  a  noble  Bolognese  family  to 
take  charge  of  a  large  picture  destined  for  the  Church 


196  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

of  San  Giovanni  in  Monte.  This  picture  was  to  represent 
the  Virgin  with  a  Rosary.  While  at  work  there,  the 
Lords  of  Ratta,  his  new  protectors,  presented  him  to 
the  parents  of  a  young  girl,  named  Marsabilia  Barbetti. 
Domenichino,  attracted  by  the  good  qualities  and  un- 
common beauty  of  Marsabilia,  offered  her  his  hand. 
The  young  girl,  flattered  on  her  part  by  the  talent  of 
Zampieri,  and  affected  by  his  trials,  consented  to  under- 
take to  make  him  forget  them. 

The  parents  promised  a  considerable  dowry,  but  when 
it  was  necessary  to  pay,  difficulties  arose,  and  Domeni- 
chino, forced  to  sustain  a  lawsuit  against  his  wife's  family, 
received  only  the  wreck  of  the  fortune  she  was  to  pos- 
sess. However,  he  was  easily  consoled,  for  Marsabilia 
was  a  good  and  devoted  companion,  filled  with  tender- 
ness and  respect  for  the  artist ;  she  roused  his  courage, 
by  predicting  future  good  fortune,  and  knew  how  to 
make  her  humble  home  so  pleasant  and  happy,  that  if 
he  desired  wealth  and  reputation,  it  was  only  to  lay 
them  at  her  feet. 

Two  children  cheered  the  heart  of  Zampieri,  who,  re- 
membering the  long  years  of  suffering  and  isolation, 
thanked  God  for  having  taken  pity  on  him.  These  two 
children,  his  pride  and  joy,  were  taken  from  him  by 
death.  It  was  a  terrible  stroke  for  the  poor  father,  and 
Marsabilia  silenced  her  own  grief  that  she  might  con- 
sole him.  She  tried  to  lead  the  thoughts  of  the  artist 
to  the  glory  which  he  had  commenced  to  forget  in  his 


PAINTERS.  197 

domestic  felicity ;  she  persuaded  him  to  return  to 
Rome. 

Gregory  XV.,  who  loved  Domenichino  very  much, 
and  who,  before  ascending  the  pontifical  throne,  had 
been  godfather  to  one  of  his  children,  received  him  most 
graciously.  Cardinal  Montalte,  who  was  about  build- 
ing the  Church  of  St.  Andrea  della  Valle,  chose  Zampi- 
eri,  upon  the  recommendation  of  the  Pope,  to  decorate 
it.  The  artist  needing  distraction,  gave  himself  entirely 
to  this  work,  and  produced  frescoes  which  excited  en- 
thusiastic admiration.  Nothing  so  perfect  had  been 
seen  since  Raphael's  death.  The  Four  Evangelists •, 
and  a  picture  of  the  Martyrdom  of  St.  Agnes ,  were 
eminently  beautiful.  The  Pope  wished  to  felicitate 
Domenichino  himself,  and  all  the  illustrious  people  of 
Rome  imitated  Gregory  XV. 

Zampieri,  sensibly  affected  by  these  proofs  of  interest, 
desired  to  show  that  he  was  worthy  of  them,  by  pro- 
ducing something  still  better.  He  pondered  upon  a 
composition  for  the  Cupola  of  San  Andrea  which 
should  surpass  anything-  he  had  yet  done  ;  and  he  thought 
of  it  night  and  day.  When  his  thoughts  were  matured, 
flattering  himself  with  the  idea  of  success,  he  heard  that 
Lanfranc  had  begged,  and  obtained  from  the  cardinal, 
the  painting  of  the  dome.  More  saddened  than  sur- 
prised by  this  new  cross,  Domenichino  did  not  try  to 
revenge  himself;  he  had'  suffered  so  much  that  resigna- 
tion began  to  be  easier  to  him.  The  Pope,  hearing 


198  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

what  had  been  done,  wished  to  indemnify  him  for  the 
injustice,  and  gave  him  the  superintendence  of  the  pal- 
ace and  papal  buildings.  During  the  life  of  Gregory 
XV.  he  distinguished  himself  in  this  position,  for  he 
was  a  good  architect  as  well  as  a  good  painter.  After 
the  Pope's  death,  Domenichino,  who  had  many  enemies 
in  Rome,  impatiently  awaited  important  orders  from 
some  other  city,  which  would  enable  him  to  leave  Rome. 

One  day  he  entered  his  house  joyfully,  and  told  his 
wife  to  prepare  to  go. 

"Have  you,  then,  received  good  news?"  asked  she. 

"Excellent.  They  have  written  to  me  to  come  to 
Naples  to  decorate  the  Dome  of  St.  Gennaio." 

"To  Naples  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  woman,  turning 
pale. 

"  Yes,  to  Naples  :  and  think  of  my  joy,  the  Cupola  of 
San  Gennaio,  much  larger  than  that  of  San  Andrea, 
will  admit  of  my  giving  full  expression  to  the  ideas 
which  I  have  already  conceived,  and  to  prove  to  those 
who  preferred  Lanfranc  how  much  they  erred.  But 
what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  Why  do  you  not  sym- 
pathize with  my  feelings  ?  " 

"You  forget,"  replied  Marsabilia,  mildly,  "that  at 
Naples,  more  than  elsewhere,  you  will  have  to  contend 
with  the  jealousy  which  has  ever  pursued  you." 

"  No,  I  forget  nothing.  I  know  that  the  Neapolitan 
painters  have  sworn  not  to  allow  any  stranger  to  dispute 
the  palm  with  them ;  but  because  I  am  requested  to  go, 


PAINTERS.  199 

they  can  have  no  reason  to  reproach  me.  Besides,  here 
I  hav.e  enemies,  as  you  well  know.  Why  then  should 
the  fear  of  meeting  others  in  Naples,  prevent  me  from 
undertaking  a  work  worthy  of  myself?  " 

w  You  know  how  ardently  I  desire  your  glory,"  replied 
Marsabilia,  "yet,  I  know  not  why,  but  I  feel  that  it  is 
not  good  for  you  to  go  there.  Give  it  up,  I  beg  of  you, 
if  not  for  your  own  safety,  at  least  for  that  of  your  wife 
and  your  child." 

Marsabilia's  prayers  being  of  no  avail,  she  resolved 
to  accompany  him  to  Naples.  Her  presentiments  were 
but  too  just.  The  Neapolitan  painters,  headed  by  Ri- 
bera,  hearing  that  Domenichino  was  about  to  undertake 
the  painting  of  the  Dome  of  San  Gennaio,  resolved  to 
throw  so  many  impediments  in  the  way  of  the  new 
comer,  and  to  humiliate  him  to  such  a  degree,  that  he 
would  gladly  abandon  the  work.  But  Domenichino 
bore  it  all  patiently ;  he  closed  his  eyes  to  the  persecu- 
tions of  which  he  was  the  object,  and  not  wishing  to 
demean  himself  by  contending  against  their  malice,  he 
only  occupied  himself  with  his  work.  Every  day  they 
threatened  him  anew,  but  he  disregarded  them,  until, 
having  escaped  the  dagger  of  an  assassin  hired  to  kill 
him,  he  left  Naples.  His  wife  and  children  were  to  join 
him  after  a  brief  delay,  but  they  were  hindered  by  those 
who  wished  to  have  the  cupola  finished  by  Domenichino. 
AY  hen  he  heard  that,  he  returned  to  the  dear  objects  of 
his  affection,  from  whom  he  could  not  be  long  separated. 


200  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

He  resumed  his  pencil,  resolving  not  to  lay  it  aside 
until  the  cupola  was  finished,  in  despite  of  hinderafices. 

His  resolution  astonished  his  enemies,  without  dis- 
concerting them  :  they  intrigued  with  the  workman  who 
had  the  charge  of  preparing  the  mortar  upon  which 
Domenichino  was  painting,  and  through  money  and 
promises  induced  him  to  mix  cinders  with  the  lime  and 
sand. 

What  was  the  despair  of  Domenichino  when  he  per- 
ceived that  numberless  cracks  marred  his  painting ! 
All  his  labor  was  lost,  and  he  was  forced  to  recommence. 
He  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  the  cause  of  the  trouble, 
until  he  recognized  the  work  of  his  enemies,  and  began 
to  fear  that  they  would  find  other  means  to  injure  him. 

Assured  of  the  treason  of  the  workman  whom  he  em- 

• 

ployed,  he  forbade  the  approach  of  any  assistant :  he 
made  his  mortars,  and  applied  them  himself;  he  ground 
his  colors.  Alone,  shut  up  in  the  church,  he  repaired  his 
damaged  work  as  well  as  he  could  ;  but  his  health,  en- 
feebled by  all  that  he  had  suffered,  gave  way  under  this 
new  chagrin  and  excess  of  labor  which  he  was  impos- 
ing upon  himself. 

He  was  not  yet  reestablished,  when  he  was  secretly  in- 
formed that  his  enemies  were  resolved  to  poison  him, 
and  he  felt  obliged  to  prepare  his  own  food.  His  life, 
which  had  been  only  a  succession  of  troubles,  availed 
him  little :  he  cared  to  preserve  it,  only  that  he  might 
finish  his  work.  But  notwithstanding  all  his  precau- 


PAINTERS.  201 

tions,  all  the  trouble  he  took  to  withdraw  himself  from 
the  bad  designs  formed  against  him,  tradition  assures  us 
that  he  was  poisoned  by  a  mercenary  hand.  If  it  were 
not  so,  it  is  easy  to  imagine  that  his  end  was  hastened 
by  cares  and  chagrins,  and  his  enemies  are  not  the  less 
responsible  for  his  death. 

Even  his  death  did  not  satisfy  their  hatred ;  they  un- 
justly criticised  the  works  which  he  had  commenced, 
and  Lanfranc,  who  was  empowered  to  finish  them,  in- 
trigued until  he  was  permitted  to  scrape  off  all  that  his 
predecessor  had  painted.  Not  content  with  this  outrage 
to  the  memory  of  Domenichino,  the  Neapolitan  artists 
advised  the  Spanish  viceroy  to  require  the  restitution 
of  the  sums  which  the  unhappy  painter  had  used ;  and, 
shameful  to  relate,  this  advice  was  followed. 

Few  artists  have  had  so  much  to  contend  with,  and 
suffered  so  much  from  the  envious  as  Domenichino.  If 
it  is  true  that  envy  attaches  itself  to  great  talents,  the 
number  of  those  who  can  pretend  to  surpass  him  is  very 
small.  His  merit,  so  long  contested,  has  been  re- 
cognized, and  posterity,  at  least,  renders  him  justice. 
Poussin,  a  great  admirer  of  his  numerous  works,  has 
named  him  the  painter  par  excellence. 

It  is  impossible  to  find  more  accurate  compositions 
than  those  of  Domenichino.  In  them  the  passions  are 
expressed  with  perfect  truth,  the  designs  are  pure,  the 
attitudes  well  chosen,  the  bearings  of  the  heads  are 
simple,  and  of  an  astonishing  variety,  the  draperies 


202      .  THE   PEINCES   OF   ART. 

thrown  on  with  exquisite  taste,  the  colors  fresh  and 
soft.  His  frescoes  are  more  esteemed  than  his  oil-paint- 
ings ;  everything  about  them  is  studied  with  the  most 
extreme  care,  harmony  reigns  throughout,  and  nothing 
betrays  fatigue,  because  Domenichino,  always  the  mas- 
ter of  his  subject,  solved  all  the  difficulties  which  he 
should  be  likely  to  meet  beforehand.  He  had  no  love 
for  society  where  his  simple  exterior  and  lack  of  accom- 
plishments prevented  his  succeeding  ;  he  tried  to  be  suffi- 
cient unto  himself.  After  long  hours  of  work,  his 
recreation  was  a  long  walk  into  the  country  ;  and  while 
he  exercised  his  body,  he  occupied  his  mind  with  the 
subjects  of  his  choice.  So  great  was  his  desire  to  ren- 
der his  pictures  truthful,  that  he  studied  himself  for  a 
model,  giving  himself  up  to  gayety  or  sadness,  accord- 
ing to  the  sentiments  he  desired  to  portray. 

His  character  was  good,  humane,  and  generous ; 
neither  hatred  nor  the  desire  of  vengeance  ever  caused 
an  unkind  thought :  he  used  to  say  that  he  preferred 
being  the  victim  rather  than  the  executioner. 

He  died  at  the  age  of  sixty  years. 


KIBERA. 

Joseph  Ribera,  born  at  Xativa,  near  Valencia,  in  1588, 
was  at  first  destined  to  the  military  career,  which  his 
father  had  followed,  and  was  sent,  when  quite  young,  to 


PAINTERS.  203 

Valencia,  for  his  education.  Endowed  with  great  intel- 
ligence, he  made  rapid  progress,  and  his  teachers  fore- 
told a  brilliant  career  for  him,  when  suddenly  he 
showtd  a  disgust  for  study,  and  occupied  himself  with 
drawing  and  painting. 

His  father,  who  regretted  to  see  him  take  this  fancy, 
tried  to  turn  his  attention  ;  but  Ribera  declared  that  he 
could  never  be  other  than  a  poor  doctor  or  a  bad  sol- 
dier if  he  followed  a  constrained  vocation,  while  if  left 
to  follow  the  bent  of  his  inclination,  he  was  sure  of  be- 
coming a  famous  painter.  Despite  his  youth,  he  said 
this  with  so  much  conviction,  with  so  much  confidence 
in  himself,  that  his  father  permitted  him  to  leave  the 
university  for  the  studio  of  Francisco  Ribalta. 

Joseph,  who  really  had  great  taste  for  the  arts,  was 
not  slow  to  distinguish  himself  under  the  direction  of 
this  able  master,  and  Ribalta  allowed  him  to  partake  of 
his  labors.  This  should  have  satisfied  the  ambition  of 
Ribera ;  but,  in  proportion  as  he  improved,  his  desire  to 
see  the  chefs-d'oeuvre  of  Italy,  of  which  he  had  heard  so 
much,  increased.  Just  when  Ribalta  felicitated  himself 
upon  having  found  a  successor  in  his  pupil,  Joseph  an- 
nounced his  intention  to  depart.  His  eldest  brother, 
who  was  going  to  take  the  command  of  a  company  of 
cavalry  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  had  much  difficulty 
in  persuading  him  to  wait  until  they  could  go  together. 

At  first  all  went  on  merrily,  and  the  voyage  appeared 
charming  to  the  two  young  people ;  but  the  officer  hav- 


204  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

ing  been  made  a  prisoner  in  the  first  encounter,  Joseph 
alone,  without  support,  without  any  resources  whatever, 
in  a  foreign  country,  regretted  Spain,  which  he  had  so  joy- 
ously left.  His  regrets  soon  passed  away  ;  for  Ribera  had 
the  heart  of  a  man  in  his  youthful  body  :  he  determined 
not  to  return  home.  He  had  come  to  Italy  to  see  the 
wonders  of  Rome ;  he  would  see  Rome.  He  set  out  on 
foot,  begging  along  the  route  when  too  cruelly  pressed  by 
hunger,  and  sleeping  under  the  beautiful  sky.  He  ar- 
rived at  Rome,  exhausted  by  fatigue,  and  hardly  covered 
by  miserable  rags.  To  present  himself  to  an  artist  in 
such  a  predicament  was  to  expose  himself  to  an  inevita- 
ble affront,  and  Ribera  was  too  proud  to  risk  it.  He 
lived  in  Rome  as  he  had  lived  in  getting  there ;  he 
needed  very  little ;  a  crust  of  bread,  a  few  vegetables 
which  he  could  find  in  a  corner,  were  sufficient. 

He  passed  the  days  in  studying  the  works  of  the  mas- 
ters in  the  churches,  or  in  drawing,  in  the  streets,  what- 
ever seemed  to  merit  his  attention. 

Cardinal  Borgia,  going  one  day  to  the  Vatican,  in  his 
carriage,  perceived  him  occupied  in  copying  the  fresco 
which  ornamented  the  facade  of  a  palace.  He  ordered 
his  people  to  bring  the  little  mendicant  to  him. 

Ribera  advanced  to  the  carriage  of  his  eminence. 

"  What  were  you  doing  there  ?  "  asked  the  cardinal. 

"I  was  drawing,  your  grace,"  replied  Joseph. 

"  Then  you  are  an  artist  ?  " 

"No,  your  eminence  ;  but  I  shall  be.  For  that  pur- 
pose, I  left  my  country  and  my  home." 


PAINTERS.  205 

"  Really,  you  are  a  foreigner  ?  " 

"I  am  a  Spaniard,  my  lord." 

"  And  you  have  neither  friend  or  protector  in  Rome  ?  " 

"  Your  lordship  can  see  that  but  too  well,"  replied  the 
young  man,  casting  an  ironical  and  pitiful  look  upon  his 
vesture. 

"  Will  you  show  me  your  sketch  ?  " 

"Here  it  is." 

"It  is  very  well  done  !  "  cried  the  cardinal,  after  hav- 
ing examined  the  rough  drawing.  "  You  have  too  much 
talent  to  be  abandoned  ;  I  will  give  you  a  place  in  my 
house." 

The  coach  drove  on,  and  a  footman,  approaching 
Ribera,  offered  to  take  him  to  the  Borgia  palace.  He 
accepted  with  as  much  pride  as  joy,  for  he  knew  that 
artists  were  well  recognized  and  hospitably  entertained 
by  such  personages. 

Ribera  forgot  only  one  thing  ;  that  was,  as  he  had  him- 
self said  to  the  prelate,  if  he  reckoned  upon  becoming  a 
celebrated  artist,  he  was  not  one  at  the  time.  He  hoped 
to  be  respected  ;  he  was  only  kindly  treated  :  he  imagined 
that  he  should  have  a  place  in  the  drawing-room,  and  at 
the  table  of  the  cardinal  :  he  was  only  admitted  to  the 
antechamber  and  the  pantry.  His  pride,  which  had  been 
much  raised,  was  cruelly  wounded  ;  yet  he  had  suffered 
too  much  from  actual  want  to  renounce  the  unexpected 
good  fortune  which  he  met.  The  cardinal  advised  him 
to  continue  his  studies,  and  left  him  the  free  disposition 


206  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

of  his  time.  Nothing  could  have  been  better  for  the 
young  man  than  to  take  advantage  of  his  peaceful  posi- 
tion by  studying  for  his  future  career.  It  was  what  he 
wished  to  do  ;  but  he  deferred  taking  his  pencil  for  some 
days,  then  weeks  passed,  and  finally  months,  without 
his  going  to  work  in  earnest. 

Ribera  was  more  reflective  than  people  generally  are ; 
he  felt  that  he  must  contend  with  misery  to  sustain  his 
energy,  and  that  his  brilliant  hopes  would  come  to  an 
end  if  he  slept  in  his  borrowed  opulence  any  longer. 

"  It  shall  not  be  said  of  me  that  I  left  my  country  to 
be  only  a  valet  here  I  "  cried  he,  after  thinking  of  what 
he  was  going  to  do.  "I  will  put  on  my  old  clothes,  and 
resume  my  former  life  :  rags  are  preferable  to  a  livery. 
Hurrah  for  my  joyous  misery  !  I  was  sometimes  hungry, 
but  always  free." 

His  plan  made,  Ribera  hastened  to  put  it  into  execu- 
tion. Leaving  the  palace  Borgia,  he  resumed  his  vaga- 
bond life ;  but  he  no  longer  begged.  He  had  learned  to 
know  the  city,  and  the  resources  it  offered.  A  dealer 
in  second-hand  wares  bought  a  copy-book  of  his  draw- 
ings for  a  few  small  pieces  of  money,  which  sufficed  for 
Ribera's  wants  until  he  could  gain  a  new  supply.  It 
often  happened  that  he  disposed  of  his  sketches  without 
the  necessity  of  applying  to  the  trader,  who  treated  him 
badly :  some  rich  child,  seeing  them  spread  out,  was 
pleased,  and  bought  of  him,  paying  generously. 

Fortune  having  favored  him  in  this  way  several  times, 


PAINTERS.  207 

Ribera  bought  pencils  and  colors.  He  began  to  make 
himself  known,  at  least  to  the  young  people  whose 
position  was  not  far  above  his  own.  Not  knowing  his 
name,  they  called  him  Lo  Spagnoletto,  the  little  Span- 
iard, —  by  which  name  he  is  well  known  at  the  present 
time. 

By  patience,  labor,  and  economy  Joseph  was  enabled 
to  dress  himself  decently,  so  that  he  could  present  him- 
self at  the  studio  of  some  master.  The  beautiful  works 
of  Michael  Angelo  and  of  Raphael  excited  his  enthu- 
siasm ;  but  these  great  geniuses  had  passed  away,  and 
among  the  painters  then  in  repute,  Caravaggio  pleased 
him  best,  by  his  bold  and  somewhat  extravagant  man- 
ner. He  went  to  Caravaggio,  and  showing  what  he 
had  done,  with  no  other  teacher  than  Nature,  begged 
him  to  receive  him  as  a  pupil.  Caravaggio  recognized 
excellent  qualities  in  Ribera's  works.  The  young  man, 
filled  with  confidence  by  this  benevolent  reception,  re- 
lated his  history  :  the  character  of  the  little  Spaniard 
pleased  the  painter,  who  was  himself  fond  of  adventures. 
Ribera  became  his  pupil,  and  was  not  the  least  enthusi- 
astic of  his  partisans  ;  he  understood  the  manner  of  the 
painter  at  once,  and  imitated  it  so  well  that,  when  Cara- 
vaggio died,  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish  the  pictures 
of  the  master  from  those  of  the  little  Spaniard. 

Ribera  was  not  twenty  years  old  at  that  time :  the 
desire  to  see,  and  to  study,  which  had  brought  him  to 
Rome  was  not  in  the  least  diminished,  and  he  went  to 


208  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

Parma,  where  Correggio  had  left  magnificent  works. 
The  style  of  Correggio,  of  which  the  distinctive  char- 
acter is  inimitable  grace,  deeply  impressed  Ribera, 
habituated  to  the  wild,  savage  energy  of  his  deceased 
professor.  Seized  with  enthusiasm  at  the  sight  of  these 
immortal  pictures,  he  was  not  content  to  admire  them 
only,  but  he  copied  them  with  such  patient  attention, 
that  he  succeeded  in  reproducing  their  gentle  beauty. 
He  recognized  what  was  false  and  extravagant  in  the 
style  which  Caravaggio  had  made  fashionable ;  he  re- 
tained this  master's  powerful  touch,  his  vigorous  color- 
ing, and  much  of  his  fire  and  boldness  ;  but  he  tempered 
these  qualities,  which  with  Caravaggio  had  degenerated 
into  faults,  by  something  sweet,  melancholy,  and  grace- 
ful, borrowed  from  an  intelligent  and  deep  study  of  the 
works  of  Correggio. 

Happy  in  his  success,  he  returned  to  Rome,  not 
doubting  that  his  talent,  which  was  bursting  forth  in  a 
new  light,  would  procure  him  an  honest  fortune,  if  not 
a  brilliant  reputation.  He  was  deceived :  his  friends, 
and  the  traders  with  whom  he  dealt  before  his  departure, 
were  more  surprised  than  satisfied  with  the  progress 
which  he  had  made,  and  advised  him  to  go  back  to 
Caravaggio's  method,  which  would  be  more  useful  to 
him. 

To  be  rid  of  their  importunate  solicitations,  and,  per- 
haps, also  forced  by  necessity,  he  went  to  Naples,  still 
rich  in  illusions,  but  so  poor  in  fact,  that,  not  having 


PAINTERS.  209 

money  to  pay  for  his  lodgings,  he  was  obliged  to  leave 
his  cloak  in  pawn.  The  poverty,  which  he  had  escaped 
for  a  while,  was  all  the  more  difficult  to  bear  when  it 
returned  to  assail  him,  because  he  was  conscious  of  his 
own  power,  and  had  the  will  to  display  it,  if  occasion 
only  offered.  He  went  through  the  city,  asking  for 
work  :  finally  he  met  a  picture-dealer,  who,  touched  with 
pity  as  much  as  others  had  been  with  fear,  by  the  sight 
of  his  destitution,  furnished  him  with  materials  for  paint- 
ing, and  promised  to  give  him  work,  if  he  really  had 
talent. 

This  was  all  that  Kibera  asked.  He  commenced  by 
a  portrait ;  and  the  honest  trader,  perceiving  that  the 
artist  had  not  boasted  falsely,  paid  him  well,  procured 
him  work,  became  his  protector,  and  soon  after  gave  him 
his  daughter  in  marriage. 

The  position  of  the  Spaniard,  so  long  poor  and  un- 
known, finally  changed.  His  father-in-law's  fortune 
and  relations  afforded  the  means  of  spreading  his  works, 
which  he  carried  to  as  high  a  degree  of  perfection  as 
possible.  He  was  beginning  to  enjoy  some  reputation, 
when  a  singular  circumstance  brought  him  to  distinction. 
Italian  painters  were  in  the  habit  of  exhibiting  the  pic- 
tures-which  they  had  finished  :  this  custom  had  a  twofold 
advantage ;  it  gave  renown  to  the  artist,  and  permitted 
him  to  improve  by  the  criticisms  of  the  multitude.  Ri- 
bera  was  too  eager  for  glory  to  miss  showing  his  works. 
One  day,  when  he  placed  a  Martyrdom  of  St.  Bar- 
14 


210  THE    PRINCES   OF   ART. 

tholomew  upon  the  balcony,  the  crowd  became  so  com- 
pact, that  the  viceroy,  seeing  the  assembly  from  the 
terrace  of  his  palace,  thought  it  was  a  riot,  and  ordered 
his  officers  to  go  immediately  and  reestablish  order. 

On  learning  that  what  he  supposed  to  be  cries  of  sedi- 
tion were  only  the  enthusiastic  acclamations  of  the  peo- 
ple, at  the  sight  of  a  chef-d'oeuvre  his  surprise  was 
very  great.  He  wished  to  see  the  picture  and  its 
painter  immediately.  Eibera  presented  himself -at  the 
palace,  where  he  received  the  warmest  felicitations. 
The  viceroy  partook  of  the  emotion  which  had  excited 
the  crowd.  Recognizing  a  fellow-countryman  in  Ri- 
bera  (the  vice-royalty  of  Naples  depended  on  Spain 
at  that  time) ,  he  cordially  extended  his  hand  to  him  in 
presence  of  the  court,  named  him  his  painter,  assured 
him  of  a  good  pension,  and  required  him  to  come  and 
establish  himself  in  the  palace. 

The  fortune  of  Ribera  was  made ;  he  received  orders 
from  all  parts :  churches,  convents,  public  buildings, 
palaces,  were  all  to  be  enriched  by  his  productions.  A 
Descent  from  the  Cross,  and  a  Virgin,  known  as  La 
Madonna  Bianca^  sealed  his  reputation.  The  king  of 
Spain,  Philip  IV.,  to  whom  the  Viceroy  sent  some  of 
Ribera's  pictures,  loaded  him  with  presents  and  honors. 
Success  did  not  weaken  Ribera's  love  for  work ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  redoubled  his  zeal,  in  order  to  be  equal  to 
his  rapidly  increasing  fame.  His  ardor  was  so  great, 
that  several  times  he  passed  a  whole  day  at  his  easel, 


PAINTERS.  211 

without  eating  or  drinking.  This  assiduity  affecting  his 
health,  the  viceroy  made  him  promise  to  have  a  servant 
always  near  him,  whose  business  it  should  be  to  tell 
him  how  many  hours  he  had  worked. 

There  was  not  a  house  in  Naples  more  elegantly  fitted 
up  than  Ribera's  :  fortune  had  come  to  him  with  all 
honors.  It  would  have  been  difficult  to  recognize  the 
poor  Spagnoletto,  obliged  to  sell  his  sketches  for  a  bit 
of  bread  or  a  portion  of  macaroni,  in  the  elegant 
lord  seen  promenading  with  the  viceroy,  or  convers- 
ing with  princes  and  dukes.  But  he  never  forgot  how 
much  he  had  suffered  ;  his  past  misfortunes  had  left  a 
leaven  of  bitterness  and  hatred  in  his  heart.  Wonder- 
ful to  relate,  the  remembrance  of  his  poverty  and  mis- 
ery, instead  of  making  him  benevolent  towards  those  in 
a  similar  situation,  instead  of  inspiring  him  with  the  de- 
sire to  come  forward  to  assist  them,  rendered  him  cold 
and  hostile  to  the  youthful  talents  which  were  seeking 
to  make  their  way  in  the  world ! 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  understand  this  sentiment 
of  egotism  and  jealousy  in  a  superior  man ;  yet  it  is 
also  too  true  that  Ribera  was  the  soul  of  that  associa- 
tion of  artists  who  swore  to  interdict  the  entrance  to 
Naples  to  any  foreign  painter,  and  should  any  be  so 
bold  as  to  brave  this  interdiction,  to  use  all  possible 
means  to  drive  them  out.  Annibal  Carracci,  after  him 
Jose'pin  and  Guido,  all 'called  to  work  upon  the  dome 
of  San  Gennaio,  were  forced  to  renounce  the  hopes 


212  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

which  their  call  to  Naples  had  created.  The  pupils  of 
Ribera,  and  the  partisans  of  his  style,  transformed  into 
bravi,  threatened  death  to  new  comers,  and  thus  as- 
sisted their  master  in  getting  rid  of  them. 

Domenichino  alone  persisted  in  remaining  at  Naples, 
despite  the  advice  of  friends  and  the  prayers  of  his 
wife.  We  have  spoken  of  the  persecutions  inflicted 
upon  him,  and  how  he  died.  Ribera  cannot  be  consid- 
ered innocent  of  his  death :  it  is  a  spot  upon  his  glory, 
and  no  one  can  praise  his  talent  without  censuring  his 
character. 

Ribera  gave  brilliant  entertainments,  to  which  all  the 
Neapolitan  aristocracy  crowded.  He  was  present  him- 
self, but  very  rarely  entertained  his  guests.  He  was 
seen  walking  alone  in  his  garden,  or  remaining  for 
hours  with  his  elbow  upon  a  balcony,  and  no  one 
thought  of  interrupting  his  musings,  because  he  was 
meditating  upon  the  works  of  the  morrow  in  the  midst 
of  the  noble  crowd  attracted  to  his  house  by  the  love  of 
pleasure.  It  often  happened  that,  struck  by  the  features 
of  some  gentleman  who  was  presented  to  him,  he  drew 
his  portrait  at  once,  without  any  person's  taking  excep- 
tions at  the  freak  of  the  artist. 

The  academy  of  St.  Luke  received  Ribera  among  its 
members,  and  the  Pope,  charmed  with  his  uncommon 
talents,  sent  him  the  decoration  of  the  order  of  Christ. 
His  pictures,  not  less  esteemed  in  Spain  than  in  Italy, 
were  royally  paid.  It  is  said  that  two  Spanish  officers, 


PAINTERS.  213 

going  through  Naples,  wished  to  pay  their  respects  to 
him  as  a  countryman.  Ribera  received  them  so  kindly, 
that  they  felt  at  liberty  to  ask  him  if  he  would  not  take 
part  in  a  speculation,  which  could  not  fail  to  be  very 
profitable. 

"Trading  and  art  are,  in  my  opinion,  incompatible," 
said  Ribera ;  "  but  if  you  will  be  good  enough  to  ex- 
plain— " 

"  We  do  not  ask  you,  sir,  to  neglect  your  pencil,"  re- 
plied one  of  the  visitors  :  "  we  wish  only  that  you  would 
associate  yourself  in  a  brilliant  affair ;  my  friend  and  I 
have  studied  alchemy  for  a  long  time,  so  that  this  ad- 
mirable science  has  no  more  secrets  for  us.  Unfortu- 
nately, the  experiments  we  have  made  have  exhausted 
our  resources,  and  now  we  are  obliged  to  give  up  the 
wonderful  results  of  our  discovery  for  want  of  some 
thousand  crowns." 

"  So,  gentlemen,  you  possess  the  faculty  of  making 
gold?" 

"  We  are  ready  to  prove  it  to  you ;  and  as  soon  as  you 
shall  have  consented  to  unite  your  interest  with  ours,  no 
king  or  prince  can  rival  you  in  pomp  or  splendor." 

"  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you  for  having  thought  to 
give  me  a  third  in  this  magnificent  affair,"  replied  Ri- 
bera, "  but  I  also  possess  the  secret  of  making  gold." 

"  You,  my  lord  ?     Is  it  possible  ?  " 

"You  shall  judge  immediately.  But  allow  me,  I 
beg  of  you,  to  give  a  few  strokes  to  this  picture,  which 
I  was  about  finishing  as  you  entered." 


214  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

The  two  officers  seated  themselves,  curious  to  see 
what  Eibera  promised  to  show  them.  In  about  an 
hour  he  called  a  domestic,  and  told  him  to  take  the 
picture  which  he  had  just  finished  to  a  certain  dealer, 
whom  he  mentioned.  The  valet  obeyed,  and  returning 
shortly  after,  handed  his  master  the  sum  of  four  hundred 
ducats. 

"What  did  I  tell  you,  gentlemen?"  said  Eibera, 
pouring  the  contents  of  the  rolls  which  he  had  received 
upon  the  table  ;  "  behold  the  gold  which  I  make.  Does 
it  appear  to  you  to  be  of  good  quality  ?  " 

The  two  officers  hung  their  heads ;  and  understanding 
that  any  new  attempt  would  be  useless,  they  went  away, 
filled  with  admiration  for  a  talent  which  was  well  worth 
the  chimerical  treasury  of  alchemy. 

Eibera  enjoyed  much  domestic  felicity ;  he  loved  his 
wife  tenderly,  and  two  daughters,  richly  endowed  by 
nature,  contributed  to  his  happiness.  A  Spanish  gentle- 
man asked,  and  obtained  the  hand  of  the  eldest :  the 
artist,  not  being  willing  to  be  separated  from  her,  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  the  appointment  of  prime  minister  of 
the  viceroy  for  his  son-in-law.  The  love  of  pleasure 
and  the  pride  of  Eibera  lost  his  second  child. 

The  second  Don  John  of  Austria  gave  magnificent 
fetes,  to  which  only  the  high  Neapolitan  aristocracy  were 
admitted ;  but  as  talent  levels  all  social  distinctions,  the 
great  painter  was  invited.  Proud  of  the  incomparable 
beauty  of  his  daughter,  he  determined  to  bring  her  out 


PAINTERS.  215 

on  these  occasions  in  a  manner  worthy  of  her,  and  ob- 
tained permission  to  present  her.  The  young  girl  was 
thought  to  be  charming,  but  no  one  was  so  enthusiastic 
upon  her  grace  and  beauty  as  the  prince  himself.  Af- 
terwards he  came  very  often  to  Ribera's  studio,  affecting 
much  esteem  for  his  talent,  and  he  knew  how  to  flatter 
his  vanity  so  well,  that  the  painter  admitted  him  into  his 
family  circle. 

In  this  Ribera  committed  a  great  mistake,  which  he 
was  not  slow  to  recognize.  One  day,  he  went  into  his 
studio  very  anxious  :  his  daughter  had  not  come  to  give 
him  the  morning  kiss,  and  this  forgetfulness  grieved  him, 
for  he  idolized  the  child.  Her  dear  image  fell,  unwit- 
tingly, from  his  pencil  into  almost  all  his  compositions. 
His  impatience  disquieted  him  so  much  that  he  left  his 
work,  and  sought  his  daily  kiss,  without  which  his  mind 
was  troubled,  and  his  heart  filled  with  anguish.  He 
went  to  his  daughter's  apartment,  called  her,  asked  for 
her,  and  sought  her  in  the  house  and  gardens  in  vain. 
The  domestics  fearing  his  anger,  went  away  from  him 
trembling.  It  was  not  until  after  many  .questions,  or 
rather  ardent  prayers,  that  he  learned  the  terrible  truth  : 
the  prince,  whom  he  believed  to  be  his  friend,  had  car- 
ried her  off! 

Ribera,  overwhelmed  for  an  instant  by  this  terrible 
blow,  soon  recovered  all  his  energy.  He  collected  all 
his  ready  money,  seized  his  arms,  and  followed  by  a 
devoted  servant,  left  his  house,  swearing  never  to  ree'n- 


216  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

ter  it,  until  revenged  for  the  odious  treachery  by  which 
the  prince  had  rendered  himself  culpable  towards  him. 

He  was  never  seen  again,  and  nothing  was  ever  heard 
of  him  or  his  servant.  It  is  supposed  that,  despairing 
of  being  able  to  punish  his  powerful  adversary,  and  un- 
willing to  reappear,  dishonored,  in  the  city  of  Naples, 
where  he  had  been  so  proud  and  so  glorious,  he  put  an 
end  to  his  life  by  suicide. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  character  of  Ribera.*  This 
character,  irascible,  haughty,  and  disagreeable,  is  found 
in  his  works.  If  he  succeeded  in  painting  beautiful 
angels  and  sainted  Madonnas,  one  feels  that  he  was  not 
so  much  pleased  as  when  he  reproduced  the  terrible  scenes 
of  the  martyrdom  of  the  defenders  of  the  faith.  His 
genius  is  greatest  when  guided  by  his  own  inspiration  : 
he  represents  tortured  members,  faces  contracted  by  suf- 
ferings, or  looks  burning  with  rage.  The  Martyrdom 
of  St.  Bartholomew,  to  which  Ribera  owed  his  sudden 
elevation,  and  Prometheus  upon  Caucasus,  are  the  two 
masterpieces  in  this  terrible  style,  which  he  liked  best. 
Besides  these^two  striking  pictures,  there  are  the  Twelve 
Apostles,  and  Jacob's  Ladder,  admirable  pictures,  which 
are  in  Madrid;  and  an  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds, 
which  is  in  the  Museum  of  the  Louvre. 

Although  Ribera  passed  all  his  career  as  an  artist,  in 
Italy,  he  never  took  any  of  the  chefs-d'oeuvre  of  the 
Roman  school  as  models.  We  do  not  find  in  his  pic- 
tures the  types  of  ideal  purity,  which  we  so  much  es- 


PAINTERS.  217 

teemed  in  Perugino  and  Raphael.  Ribera,  by  the  at- 
tention which  he  gave  to  reproducing  nature  in  all  her 
variety,  belongs  to  the  Spanish  school.  His  composi- 
tions are  distinguished  by  a  wonderful  skill  in  chiaro- 
scuro, by  a  delicacy  and  vigor  of  pencilling,  which  few 
artists  have  equalled,  and  finally,  by  the  inimitable  tal- 
ent with  which  he  represented  bald  heads,  wrinkled 
faces,  and  lame,  old  people. 

Ribera  was  sixty-nine  years  old  when  he  died,  or 
rather  when  he  disappeared  from  Naples,  for  the  time 
of  his  death  is  uncertain. 


VELASQUEZ. 

Don  Diego  Velasquez  de  Siloa,  born  at  Seville,  in 
1599,  descended  from  one  of  the  most  noble  and  most 
illustrious  families  of  Portugal.  His  parents,  anticipa- 
ting some  career  worthy  of  his  birth,  gave  him  a  bril- 
liant education,  and  the  young  Diego  improved  in  a 
manner  to  surpass  all  these  hopes.  After  finishing  his 
studies,  he  consecrated  all  his  leisure  to  painting,  until 
old  enough  to  choose  a  profession.  While  the  young 
gentlemen  of  his  acquaintance  were  running  after  pleas- 
ures, and  dissipating  their  paternal  fortunes  in  all  sorts 
of  follies,  Don  Diego  passed  his  days  peacefully  and 
happily  in  solitude. 

He  had  such  a  fancy  for  this  occupation,  that  feeling 


218  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

he  could  not  give  it  up,  he  begged  his  father  to  permit 
him  to  be  an  artist,  and  pleaded  his  cause  with  so  much 
eloquence  that  he  was  permitted  to  enter  into  the  school 
of  Francisco  Herrera. 

Francisco  was  an  able  teacher,  but  a  hard,  haughty 
and  fantastic  man,  to  whose  manners  Diego  found  it 
very  difficult  to  accommodate  himself.  Velasquez, 
brought  up  with  all  circumspection  in  the  paternal  home, 
endowed  with  a  gentle  and  kind  character,  educated 
with  distinguished  manners  and  polite  habits,  suffered 
more  than  others  from  the  oddities  and  excitements 
of  Herrera.  The  love  of  painting  enabled  Velasquez 
to  be  patient,  for  a  time,  but  his  resignation,  far  from 
touching  his  master's  feelings,  only  caused  him  to  be 
treated  as  a  drudge.  Velasquez  left  him,  and  entered 
the  school  of  Pacheco. 

Pacheco,  quite  as  good  a  teacher  as  Herrera,  was  a 
man  of  the  world.  His  amiable  spirit,  lively  conversa- 
tion, the  ease  and  nobleness  of  his  manners,  had  gained 
him  access  to  all  the  learned  and  illustrious  personages 
of  Seville.  He  became  very  partial  to  Velasquez,  and 
taught  him  with  great  care.  The  pupil,  filled  with 
gratitude,  regarded  him  as  a  second  father,  their  mutual 
affection  increased  daily,  and  Pacheco  promised  to  give 
Velasquez  his  daughter  in  marriage. 

The  first  works  of  Diego  were  distinguished  by  a  sure 
and  easy  pencil,  and  Pacheco  foresaw  that  his  pupil 
would  excel  him ;  however,  Velasquez  failed  in  that 


PAINTERS.  219 

which  promptly  develops  the  sentiment  of  the  beautiful 
in  artists  :  he  had  seen  none  of  the  immortal  compo- 
sitions, the  glory  and  riches  of  Italy.  Working  assidu- 
ously, he  carefully  studied,  but  he  did  not  know  how 
much  genius  can  add  to  beauty.  Some  Italian  and 
Flemish  painters  coming  to  Seville,  taught  him.  See- 
ing that  he  had  much  to  learn,  Velasquez  bade  adieu  to 
his  kind  teacher,  now  become  his  best  friend,  and  de- 
parted for  Madrid. 

He  was  then  twenty-three  years  old,  and  was  thought 
to  be  a  painter  of  the  first  order.  He  was  recommended, 
by  his  family,  to  Don  Juan  de  Fonseca,  who  held  a 
position  at  court.  This  gentleman  received  Velasquez 
as  a  relative,  and  presented  him  to  Philip  IV.  The 
king  had  heard  of  the  talent  of  the  young  artist ;  he  re- 
ceived him  kindly,  and  ordered  his  portrait. 

Velasquez,  who  was  very  skilful  in  portrait  painting, 
commenced,  full  of  hope,  and  the  success  proved  that  he 
was  not  too  much  prejudiced  in  favor  of  his  own  talent. 
Philip  was  greatly  pleased  with  this  portrait,  and  or- 
dered all  the  pictures  which  had  been  previously  made 
of  him  to  be  destroyed,  and  named  Velasquez  his  first 
painter. 

This  position,  which  Diego  was  far  from  expecting, 
did  not  make  him  forget  that  he  had  come  to  Madrid 
for  the  purpose  of  instruction.  There  were  no  good 
masters  in  this  capital ;  but  some  beautiful  pictures  of 
the  best  Italian  artists  revealed  the  mysteries  of  the  art 


220  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

to  Velasquez.  By  studying  them  with  great  attention, 
he  modified  his  own  manner,  and  made  rapid  progress. 
Some  time  after  his  arrival  in  Madrid,  the  king  offered 
a  prize  for  the  best  painting,  and  the  subject  to  be  treat- 
ed was  the  expulsion  of  the  Moors  from  the  Peninsula. 
Velasquez  gained  the  prize,  and  the  king,  as  happy  as 
himself,  gave  him  new  honors  at  court. 

Diego  gained  favor  daily.  Philip  IV.,  subject  to 
terrible  fits  of  melancholy,  had  need  of  distraction  of 
mind ;  and  as  he  prided  himself  upon  being  an  artist,  it 
was  by  artists  that  he  hoped  to  be  relieved  from  the 
cruel  cares  which  weighed  upon  his  spirit.  The  draw- 
ings of  Velasquez,  full  of  roguery  and  wit,  often  made 
the  king  laugh ;  and  the  verses  of  Calderon  helped  to 
dissipate  his  sad  humors.  The  painter  and  the  poet 
lived  in  great  intimacy  with  the  monarch,  and  both  pos- 
sessed much  influence  over  him.  A  caricature  by  Ve- 
lasquez, a  satire  of  Calderon,  sufficed  to  deprive  a  favor- 
ite of  the  good  graces  of  the  king,  or  to  frustrate  projects 
of  the  ministers ;  so  that  these  two  artists  had  numer- 
ous courtiers,  and  more  enemies.  Velasquez,  in  the 
midst  of  the  intrigues  of  the  court,  remained  true  to  art 
and  his  conscience. '  He  praised  only  what  he  believed 
to  be  just,  good,  and  useful  to  the  prosperity  of  his  coun- 
try, and  criticised  what  he  believed  to  be  iniquitous  or 
hurtful.  He  remained  what  he  had  been  before  his  eleva- 
tion, —  honest,  modest,  benevolent,  industrious,  accessi- 
ble to  all  who  needed  encouragement  or  assistance. 


PAINTERS.  221 

Velasquez  had  been  in  Madrid  six  years,  when  he 
heard  that  the  king  of  England  had  chosen  the  cel- 
ebrated painter  Rubens  as  his  ambassador  to  the  court 
of  Spain.  The  news  created  quite  a  sensation  at  the 
court,  and  was  particularly  agreeable  to  Velasquez,  who 
knew  Rubens  by  his  works.  Rubens,  on  his  part,  had 
heard  of  the  eminent  talent  of  Velasquez  ;  they  esteemed 
and  admired  each  other  before  meeting,  and  when  they 
met  they  loved  each  other.  They  spent  all  the  time 
which  was  not  needed  in  the  service  of  their  respective 
masters,  together.  Velasquez  showed  Rubens  the  paint- 
ings in  Madrid  and  the  Escurial,  and  Rubens  told  Ve- 
lasquez all  that  he  had  seen  in  Venice,  Florence,  and 
Rome.  His  warm  and  enthusiastic  descriptions  over- 
powered the  Spaniard,  who  pictured  to  himself  the  sub- 
lime frescoes  of  Michael  Angelo,  the  admirable  pictures 
of  Raphael,  of  Titian,  and  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci.  But 
there  came  a  moment  when  these  descriptions,  exact  and 
colored  as  they  were,  no  longer  sufficed ;  an  ardent  de- 
sire to  visit  the  country  of  the  fine  arts  took  possession 
of  his  soul ;  he  lost  his  sleep,  his  appetite,  gayety,  and 
even  his  love  of  work. 

One  morning  Velasquez,  who  could  go  to  the  king 
at  all  times,  seeing  him  more  lively  than  usual,  threw 
himself  at  his  feet,  and  begged  leave  of  absence  for 
some  months.  Hearing  this,  Philip  cried  out,  and  ac- 
cused the  painter  of  ingratitude.  After  he  had  exhausted 
his  complaints  and  grievances,  he  desired  to  be  informed 
of  the  motive  of  this  absence. 


222  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

"I  wish,  sire,  to  be  worthy  of  the  title  of  first  painter 
to  your  majesty,  a  title,  which  the  king,  my  master,  has 
deigned  to  bestow  upon  me,  consulting  rather  his  indul- 
gence than  my  talent .  Sire ,  1  wish  to  visit  Italy  :  one  cannot 
be  a  great  artist  without  studying  the  wonders  which  the 
great  masters,  Michael  Angelo  and  Raphael,  have  left." 

"  Say  rather  that  you  wish  to  leave  me,  Velasquez, 
because  a  painter  like  you  has  nothing  to  desire,  not 
even  from  the  illustrious  dead  whom  you  mention ;  and 
if  you  wish  to  give  me  a  better  opinion  of  your  heart, 
upon  which  I  have  counted  as  that  of  a  friend,  never 
speak  to  me  again  of  this  voyage." 

Velasquez  understood  that  all  his  urgency  would  be 
in  vain,  and  resolved  to  wait  until  some  unforeseen  cir- 
cumstance should  permit  him  again  to  ask  leave  of 
absence. 

Every  time  that  the  king,  surprised  by  some  work  of 
his  painter,  or  grateful  for  the  distraction  which  the 
lively,  and  biting  pencil  of  Velasquez  procured  him,  ex- 
pressed a  desire  to  recompense  him,  the,  artist  took  the 
opportunity  to  speak  of  his  favorite  dream,  a  voyage  to 
Italy.  Finally,  this  dream  threatening  to  become  a 
fixed  idea,  Philip  IV.,  seeing  that  Don  Diego  was  los- 
ing his  good  humor  and  his  sallies  of  raillery,  consented 
to  his  departure,  on  condition  that  he  should  spend  no 
more  time  than  was  absolutely  necessary  to  see  the  chefs- 
d'ceuvre  which  he  was  so  anxious  to  admire. 

Velasquez  received  this  permission  with  delight ;  be- 


PAINTERS.  223 

sides,  he  was  anxious  to  enjoy  a  little  of  that  liberty,  of 
which  those  who  live  near  kings  are  deprived  :  it  seemed 
to  him  a  great  pleasure  not  to  be  the  favorite  of  Philip 
IV.,  but  a  simple  artist,  travelling  as  he  pleased,  and 
stopping  whenever  he  found  a  beautiful  site  to  paint  or 
a  souvenir  to  evoke.  However,  he  was  disappointed  in 
the  pleasure  of  travelling  incognito  :  the  king,  unwilling 
that  his  painter  should  go  like  an  ordinary  traveller, 
gave  him  letters  of  recommendation,  decorations,  and 
titles,  with  a  numerous  and  brilliant  suite. 

At  Venice,  the  ambassador  of  Spain  received  him 
with  every  mark  of  distinction ;  and  desiring  to  flatter 
Philip  IV.  by  honoring  his  painter,  he  gave  Velasquez 
a  brilliant  entertainment,  to  which  all  the  Venetian  no- 
bility were  invited.  When  these  festivities  were  ended, 
Diego  commenced  to  study.  The  beautiful  works  of 
Giorgione,  of  Titian,  of  Tintoretto,  of  Paul  Veronese, 
filled  him  with  enthusiasm.  Notwithstanding  the  king's 
recommendation  to  make  haste,  he  would,  perhaps,  have 
spent  several  years  in  Venice,  had  he  not  been  forced  to 
leave  the  city  by  the  war,  about  the  succession  of  Man- 
tua, which  broke  out  between  France  and  Spain. 

At  Eome,  Pope  Urban  VIII.  received  him  as  one  of 
the  first  artists  of  the  century.  Velasquez  saw  that 
Rubens  had  not  exaggerated  in  boasting  of  the  wonders 
which  the  capital  of  the  Christian  world  contained.  It 
would '  be  impossible  to  express  the  admiration  with 
which  Michael  Angelo  and  Raphael  inspired  him.  He 


224  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

studied  them  with  the  closest  attention,  and  not  satisfied 
with  studying  them,  he  copied  many  of  Raphael's  pic- 
tures, and  a  part  of  the  immortal  fresco  of  The  Last 
Judgment.  Having  modified  his  style  by  this  conscien- 
tious study,  he  painted  two  pictures,  which  he  intended 
to  present  to  the  king  on  his  return  to  Spain.  He  re- 
ceived an  order  to  return  immediately  to  Madrid,  from 
Philip  IV.,  who  could  not  accustom  himself  to  his  ab- 
sence ;  which  obliged  him  to  finish  the  two  pictures,  — 
the  Forges  of  Vulcan,  and  the  Tunic  of  Joseph,  — in 
great  haste.  But  he  would  not  think  of  leaving  Italy 
without  seeing  Naples,  where  Ribera,  his  fellow-country- 
man, was  then  enjoying  great  reputation.  The  two 
artists,  who  were  already  acquainted  with  each  other's 
works,  passed  several  days  together :  then  Velasquez, 
fearing  that  a  longer  stay  would  irritate  the  king,  his 
master,  returned  to  Spain. 

Philip  was  too  happy  to  see  him  to  make  any  re- 
proaches. He  took  great  pleasure  in  listening  to  the 
recital  of  the  travels  of  his  painter,  and  hearing  his 
enthusiastic  descriptions  of  the  chefs-d'oeuvre  which  he 
regretted  having  left  so  soon.  The  two  pictures  which 
Velasquez  painted  at  Rome  made  the  king  forget  the 
ennui  he  had  felt  during  the  absence  of  his  favorite  :  he 
overwhelmed  him  with  felicitations  and  rich  presents. 
The  court  as  well  as  the  monarch  applauded  the  flight 
which  the  fine  talent  of  Velasquez  had  taken,  and  it  was 
but  just. 


PAINTERS.  225 

This  success  made  him  redouble  his  efforts.  A  noble 
emulation  had  taken  possession  of  his  heart.  The  beauti- 
ful works  which  he  had  seen  inspired  him  with  the  de- 
sire of  greater  improvement,  and  he  succeeded.  He 
almost  never  left  his  studio.  Philip,  who  delighted  to 
be  with  him,  was  in  the  habit  of  going  thither,  instead 
of  sending  for  him,  as  he  formerly  did.  The  monarch 
forgot  the  cares  of  royalty  during  the  hours  which  they 
passed  pleasantly  conversing  upon  the  arts. 

For  some  years  Philip  had  been  talking  of  founding 
an  academy  of  painting  in  Madrid,  and  the  subject  was 
often  discussed  in  his  conversations  with  Velasquez. 
The  painter,  inspired  by  the  love  of  art,  and  perhaps 
some  little  egotism,  urged  him  to  carry  out  his  plan. 
To  endow  an  academy  of  painting  in  Spain,  it  would 
be  necessary  to  collect  a  certain  number  of  antique  mar- 
bles, of  ancient  and  modern  pictures,  and  of  objects  of 
art  of  all  kinds,  and  Velasquez  had  no  doubt  that  the  king 
would  choose  him  to  select  them  ;  in  which  case  a  second 
voyage  to  Italy  would  be  necessary,  and  he,  under  pre- 
text of  the  exigence  of  his  mission,  would  be  able  to 
prolong  his  sojourn  more  than  he  had  ventured  to  do  the 
first  time.  The  preoccupations  of  politics  caused  the 
postponement  of  the  foundation  of  this  establishment. 
Philip  was  obliged  to  remember  that  his  duty  was  that 
of  a  king,  and  not  of  an  artist,  so  that  seventeen  years 
passed  away  before  Velasquez  could  make  another  voyage 
to  Italy.  The  most  remarkable  deeds  of  the  reign  of 
15 


226  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

Philip  IV.  were  represented  in  the  pictures  which  Velas- 
quez painted  during  these  seventeen  years.  The  uncom- 
mon talents  of  the  artist  procured  him  signal  favors  from 
the  king. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  pictures  which  the  artist 
painted  at  this  time  is  that  which  represents  the  family 
of  his  sovereign.  While  he  was  occupied  on  this  pic- 
ture, the  visits  of  Philip  to  his  studio  were  more  frequent 
than  ever;  he  never  tired  of  admiring  the  astonishing 
facility  with  which  those  beautiful  and  noble  figures,  so 
true  to  life,  were  growing  under  the  pencil  of  Don 
Diego.  The  king,  wishing  to  render  homage  to  the 
genius  of  him  whom  he  called  his  friend,  desired  him  to 
paint  himself  in  the  picture.  When  the  picture  was  fin- 
ished he  showed  it  to  the  king,  who  warmly  approved  it. 

"So,"  said  Velasquez,  "your  majesty  finds  nothing 
wanting  to  the  picture  ?  " 

"  Have  I  said  so  ?  "  asked  the  king,  smiling. 

"No,  sire  ;  but  your  majesty  has  deigned  to  praise  my 
work  in  such  a  manner,  that,  if  I  did  not  know  the  in- 
dulgence of  the  king,  I  should  flatter  myself  that  I  was 
leaving  an  irreproachable  picture  to  posterity." 

"Be  assured,  friend  Velasquez,  that  I  am  not  indul- 
gent, but  just.  Therefore,  at  the  risk  of  somewhat 
humiliating  your  pride  as  an  artist,  I  beg  you  to  pass 
me  your  pallet  and  brush,  that  I  may  remedy  what  is 
wanting  in  your  work." 

Velasquez  was  unable  to  dissemble  a  certain  appre- 


PAINTERS.  227 

hension :  although  the  king  painted  tolerably  well,  he 
felt  that  it  would  be  a  great  pity  to  spoil  his  magnificent 
portraits.  Philip  easily  imagined  what  was  passing  in 
Diego's  mind,  but  he  took  no  notice  of  it,  and,  advan- 
cing towards  the  picture,  he  painted  th^  Cross  of  St. 
James  near  those  of  the  other  orders  with  which  the 
breast  of  the  artist  was  already  decorated.  Velasquez, 
penetrated  with  gratitude,  fell  on  his  knees  before  him ; 
Philip,  raising  him,  embraced  him,  and  said,  — 

"Is  it  not  a  great  honor  for  the  king  of  Spain  to 
have  added  the  finishing  stroke  to  the  painting  of 
Velasquez?" 

But  to  return  to  the  foundation  of  the  academy  of 
painting.  Philip  was  beginning  to  grow  old,  and,  fear- 
ing that  death  should  come  upon  him  before  he  had 
given  some  brilliant  evidence  of  his  royal  protection  of 
the  arts,  finally  sent  Velasquez  to  Rome. 

Pope  Innocent  X.  received  him  with  the  greatest 
favor,  and  begged  him  to  paint  his  portrait.  The  Span- 
ish painter  complied  with  the  flattering  demand.  The 
public  were  so  much  excited  by  the  sight  of  this  picture 
that  it  was  decided  to  carry  it  in  procession  through  the 
streets  of  Eome,  and  afterwards  to  crown  it.  Velasquez 
was  not  insensible  to  such  honors. 

Philip's  envoy  ordered  twelve  pictures,  from  twelve 
of  the  most  celebrated  painters  of  the  epoch :  these  he 
was  to  add  to  those  of  the  ancient  masters,  which  he  had 
procured  at  great  expense  ;  he  bought  antique  marbles, 


228  THE   PEINCES   OF  ART. 

statues  of  the  preceding  century,  and  being  authorized 
by  the  king  of  Spain  to  spare  nothing,  that  the  collec- 
tion might  be  worthy  of  Philip  IV.  and  of  Velasquez, 
he  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  number  of  very  precious 
works. 

He  returned  to  Madrid  with  his  treasures ;  and  the 
monarch  was  so  much  pleased  with  the  manner  in  which 
he  had  executed  his  commissions,  that  he  appointed  him 
marshal.  With  all  his  riches  and  honors,  he  was  still 
modest  and  industrious.  The  more  he  was  praised,  the 
more  desirous  he  was  to  deserve  it.  His  chief  pleasure 
was  in  the  cultivation  of  his  art,  and  he  would  have  gone 
from  court  rather  than  sacrifice  the  pleasures  afforded 
by  his  pencil  to  the  vexatious  trials  of  ambition. 

Although  he  excelled  in  portrait-painting,  he  knew 
how  to  put  much  grandeur  and  poetry  into  his  historical 
compositions,  truth  and  simplicity  into  his  landscapes, 
grace  and  sweetness,  beyond  all  expression,  into  his  small 
interior  scenes  ;  finally,  he  painted  animals,  flowers,  and 
fruits  as  a  man  for  whom  Nature  had  no  secrets.  Great 
purity  in  drawing,  a  pencil  firm,  yet  light,  a  good  tone 
of  color,  perfect  knowledge  of  chiaro-scuro  and  of  per- 
spective, distinguish  all  his  works. 

Velasquez  continued  to  labor  during  ten  years  after 
his  return  from  Italy ;  and  although  his  health  was  sen- 
sibly enfeebled,  he  could  not  consent  to  give  up  his  be- 
loved occupation.  His  talent,  far  from  diminishing, 
seemed  to  gain  strength  daily ;  his  hand  was  always 


PAINTERS.  229 

sure,  his  imagination  full  of  the  generous  ardor  of 
youth ;  age  brought  him  a  more  profound  knowledge  of 
the  mysteries  of  art,  of  study,  and  of  experience. 

Philip  flattered  himself  that  his  beloved  artist,  although 
quite  old,  would  live  many  years.  In  the'  fear  of  afflict- 
ing Velasquez,  he  insisted  less  upon  the  necessity  of  his 
suspending  his  labors  than  he  would  have  done  had  he 
been  counselled  by  his  affection  alone. 

Meanwhile  Cardinal  Mazarin  having  concluded  the 
negotiations  undertaken  with  Spain  for  the  marriage  of 
Louis  XI Y. ,  Philip  IV.  promised  to  conduct  his  daughter, 
Maria  Theresa,  who  was  to  be  queen  of  France,  to  the 
frontier.  Louis,  in  all  the  splendor  of  youth  and  glory, 
followed  by  a  numerous  and  brilliant  court,  came  to 
Irun  to  meet  his  affianced  bride.  Velasquez  left  Madrid 
in  company  with  Philip :  in  his  quality  of  marshal, 
obliged  to  prepare  lodgings  for  the  court  when  travel- 
ling, he  was  ordered  to  arrange  the  pavilion  where  the 
two  monarchs  were  to  meet,  and  to  regulate  all  the  cere- 
monies of  the  interview  in  the  Isle  of  Pheasants.  The 
cares  of  this  journey,  the  exertion  he  was  compelled  to 
make,  in  order  to  see  that  nothing  should  be  wanting  in 
the  pomp  displayed  by  the  court  of  Spain  upon  this 
solemn  occasion,  hastened  the  progress  of  his  disease. 
He  was  taken  back  to  Madrid  at  the  end  of  the.  month 
of  March,  1660,  and  died  on  the  7th  of  the  following 
August,  at  the  age  of  sixfy-one  years. 

The   king   made   a   magnificent  funeral,   which  was 


230  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

attended  by  the  court  and  the  whole  city  of  Madrid.  He 
was  interred  in  the  church  of  San  Juan,  where  his 
widow,  the  daughter  of  his  old  master,  Francisco  Pa- 
checo,  joined  him  a  few  days  after. 


MUEILLO. 

The  child  who  became  the  most  celebrated  painter 
of  Spain  was  born  the  1st  of  January,  1618,  in 
one  of  the  poorest  houses  of  Seville.  His  family 
name  was  Murillo,  and  he  was  baptized  Bartholo- 
mew Esteban.  His  childhood  passed  in  privations  and 
misery,  and  nothing  announced  the  brilliant  career 
reserved  for  him.  At  first  his  parents  scarcely  thought 
of  having  him  learn  to  read  and  write ;  but  when  he 
commenced,  he  manifested  so  much  intelligence  and 
good  will,  that  they  were  astonished  at  the  progress 
which  he  made,  and  began  to  hope  that  some  day  the 
little  Bartholomew  would  rise  above  the  miserable  con- 
dition in  which  their  lot  had  been  cast. 

His  mother  often  thought  of  it ;  and  the  more  the 
good  qualities  of  her  son  developed,  the  more  she  was 
fixed  in  her  hopes.  She  had  a  brother,  named  Juan  del 
Castillo,  who  was  a  painter,  and  who,  though  he  pos- 
sessed neither  fortune  nor  reputation,  was  in  a  brilliant 
position  compared  with  that  of  Murillo.  She  went  to 
this  brother,  told  him  of  the  excellent  character  of  her 


PAINTERS.  231 

son,  and  his  aptitude  for  learning,  and  begged  him  to 
give  him  some  instruction.  Juan  did  not  participate  in 
the  hopes  of  his  sister,  yet  he  consented  to  teach  his 
nephew  the  elements  of  his  art. 

When  Murillo  had  a  pencil  in  his  hand,  and  a  good 
sheet  of  paper  at  his  disposition,  —  treasures  which  he 
had  for  a  long  time  coveted,  — he  was  happier  than  a 
king,  and,  proud  of  this  happiness,  he  also  began  to 
think  of  a  future  career.  He  saw  himself  a  painter,  like 
his  uncle  ;  he  had  a  studio  ornamented  with  fine  pictures, 
a  neat  and  pretty  little  room,  and  money,  which,  while 
weeping  with  joy,  he  poured  into  the  lap  of  his  good 
mother.  Now,  in  order  to  realize  this  fine  dream,  it 
was  necessary  to  work  diligently ;  the  child  did  not  lose 
an  instant :  very  soon  Juan  del  Castillo  recognized  his 
powers. 

Juan  was  a  very  bad  colorist,  but  he  drew  tolerably 
well,  so  that  his  instruction  was  useful  to  Bartholomew. 
Unfortunately,  he  decided  to  leave  Seville,  and  establish 
himself  in  Cadiz.  Murillo  would  gladly  have  gone  with 
him ;  but  his  parents  were  unable  to  pay  his  board,  and 
Castillo  could  not  afford  to  make  such  an  addition  to 
his  expenses.  His  departure  was  a  grievous  sacrifice  to 
Bartholomew,  for  all  the  poor  child's  brilliant  illusions 
vanished  with  his  master.  Then  the  time  which  he  had 
spent  with  Castillo  was  a  twofold  loss ;  for  if  Murillo 
had  not  hoped  to  become  an  artist,  he  would  have  been 
apprenticed  to  some  artisan,  and  now  that  he  was  large 


232  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

and  strong,  he  would  be  able  to  earn  his  living.  What 
was  to  be  done  ?  Such  was  the  question  which  Barthol- 
omew put  to  himself. 

He  could  not  think  of  going  home  to  his  parents, 
whose  labor  scarcely  sufficed  for  their  restricted  wants. 
Should  he  give  up  painting,  and  learn  a  trade?  Be- 
sides the  chagrin  which  he  felt  in  renouncing  the  career 
he  had  chosen,  he  knew  that  several  years  must  pass 
before  he  could  depend  upon  his  salary.  Would  it  not 
be  better  for  him  to  try  to  continue  the  study  of  paint- 
ing alone?  He  felt  no  doubt  of  it,  for  on  that  de- 
pended his  success  in  life.  Yet  his  poverty  presented 
an  almost  insurmountable  obstacle.  He  needed  time 
and  models  for  study ;  he  had  neither,  and  the  necessity 
of  procuring  daily  bread  would  not  allow  him  to  choose 
his  labor. 

The  merchants  who  fitted  out  galleons  for  America 
were  buying  great  quantities  of  pictures  of  the  Virgin, 
for  which  they  received  good  prices  from  the  newly-con- 
verted Christians  of  Mexico,  Peru,  and  Guadaloupe. 
These  pictures,  roughly  painted,  were  called  on  that  ac- 
count Notre  Dame  de  la  Guadaloupe,  and  were  bought 
by  the  merchants  at  a  very  low  price.  Murillo,  for 
want  of  something  better,  daubed  these  Madonnas,  and 
thus  saved  himself  from  starving. 

He  had  been  pursuing  this  business  for  some  time, 
when  a  renowned  painter,  Pedro  de  Moya,  arrived  at 
Seville.  Pedro  had  studied  with  Van  Dyck,  and  Bar- 


PAINTERS.  233 

tholomew,  who  had  never  seen  any  more  beautiful  pic- 
tures than  those  painted  by  his  uncle,  Juan  del  Castillo, 
was  filled  with  admiration  at  sight  of  the  paintings  of  the 
new  comer.  He  was  ashamed  of  his  own  work,  and 
determined  to  imitate,  as  far  as  possible,  Pedro  de  Moya. 
Aided  by  his  own  genius,  the  study  of  these  paintings 
improved  him  very  much,  and  his  pictures  of  Notre 
Dame  were  quite  unlike  those  which  he  had  previously 
painted. 

Murillo,  emboldened  by  his  success,  presented  him- 
self to  Pedro,  with  one  of  his  pictures  in  his  hand,  and 
begged  the  artist  to  assist  him  with  his  advice.  Pedro 
examined  the  picture  painted  by  the  young  man,  gave 
him  some  encouragement,  and  permission  to  frequent  his 
studio.  The  joy  of  Murillo  was  of  short  duration :  he 
lost  his  second  master  as  he  had  lost  the  first.  Pedro 
de  Moya  remained  in  Seville  only  a  few  months,  and 
Bartholomew  was  almost  discouraged  at  his  departure. 

What  he  had  seen  at  Pedro's  revealed  art  to  him,  so 
that  it  became  impossible  for  him  to  continue  painting 
mechanically,  as  he  had  heretofore  done.  In  the  midst 
of  the  grief  and  discouragement  of  the  poor  young  man, 
an  idea,  the  realization  of  which  seemed  next  to  impos- 
sible, occurred  to  him,  and  which  smiled  at  his  despair. 
Murillo  said  to  himself,  — 

"The  study  of  the  chefs-d'oeuvre  which  are  in  Italy 
would  make  me  as  able  an  artist  as  Pedro  de  Moya.  I 
will  go  to  Italy,  even  if  I  have  to  beg  my  way  there." 


234  THE    PRINCES    OF   AKT. 

But  as  begging  was  repugnant  to  his  pride,  unless 
absolutely  forced  to  it,  he  set  himself  to  work,  day  and 
night,  with  feverish  ardor,  and  in  a  few  weeks  made  so 
many  Madonnas,  Jesuses,  and  male  and  female  saints, 
that  he  realized  a  considerable  sum  from  the  sale  of  them. 

As  soon  as  he  found  himself  rich  enough  to  go  to 
Madrid,  he  set  out  on  foot,  eating  only  bread,  and 
drinking  water,  until  he  arrived  at  the  capital  of  Spain. 
There  the  paintings  of  Velasquez  excited  his  admiration 
much  more  than  those  of  Pedro  de  Moya,  and  he  re- 
mained to  study  them  while  his  funds  lasted.  When  he 
had  spent  his  last  piece  of  money,  he  sold  the  copies 
which  he  had  tried  to  make  from  the  pictures  of  Velas- 
quez, to  a  picture-dealer,  and  being  secure  of  the  means 
of  living  for  a  few  days,  resumed  his  studies. 

The  great  desire  of  Murillo  was,  to  see  the  author  of 
those  beautiful  compositions  :  it  seemed  to  him  that  one 
endowed  with  such  a  genius  was  more  than  a  man. 
He  inquired  where  it  would  be  possible  to  meet  him  : 
he  learned  that  the  next  day  the  court  would  be  going 
to  Aranjuez,  and  he  would  only  have  to  be  where  the 
royal  cortege  should  pass,  to  see  the  painter  of  Philip 
IV.  Murillo  was  careful  not  to  fail ;  and  touched  by 
the  sweet  and  benevolent  face  of  Velasquez,  as  much  as 
he  had  been  by  his  talent,  he  resolved  to  try  to  get  an 
opportunity  to  speak  with  him.  Eight  days  of  unre- 
mitting labor  enabled  him  to  remedy  the  tattered  con- 
dition of  his  garments,  and  no  sooner  had  Velasquez 


PAINTERS.  235 

returned  to  Madrid,  than  Murillo  presented  himself  at 
the  palace,  and  depending  upon  his  title  of  Sevillian 
painter,  he  asked  admission  to  the  great  artist. 

Velasquez  was  always  accessible  to  every  one,  not- 
withstanding his  elevated  position  :  he  ordered  the  un- 
known visitor  to  be  introduced  into  his  studio.  Murillo 
fell  into  a  sort  of  ecstasy  at  sight  of  all  the  artistic 
riches  which  met  his  view ;  a  celestial  ray  seemed  to 
illuminate  his  countenance,  and  tears  of  joy  flowed  from 
his  eyes.  He  had  forgotten  the  artist  in  the  art.  Mean- 
while Velasquez  examined  the  intelligent  face  of  the 
young  man,  his  air  of  frankness,  goodness,  and  resolu- 
tion, and  he  felt  interested  in,  and  disposed  to  be  useful 
to  him.  When  the  first  emotions  of  Murillo  had  sub- 
sided a  little,  the  painter  of  the  king,  seeing  him  con- 
fused and  speechless,  came  to  his  aid. 

"You  are  a  painter,  I  see,  my  young  fellow-country- 
man," he  said  to  him. 

"If  I  had  believed  I  was,  I  shall  be  disabused,  since 
I  have  seen  your  works,  sir,"  replied  Murillo.  "  Alas, 
no,  I  am  not  a  painter,  but  I  would  be  one,  if  God 
gave  me  a  protector." 

"Explain  yourself,  my  friend,"  said  Velasquez. 

Murillo  then  related  his  life,  his  hope  twice  de- 
stroyed, his  desire  to  go  to  Kome,  and  the  cruel  poverty 
which  deprived  him  of  the  realization  of  this  desire. 
Velasquez  listened  with  interest ;  and  although  he  had 
never  had  to  contend  against  misery,  he  understood  the 
griefs  of  such  a  contest. 


236  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

"  Show  me  some  of  your  works,"  said  he  to  him, 
"  and  if  Heaven  has  destined  you,  as  I  believe,  to  be- 
come an  artist,  you  will  find  in  me  the  protector  you 
are  wishing  for." 

Murillo  kissed  the  hand  of  the  illustrious  master,  and 
blushing  to  bring  forth  his  poor  attempts  in  the  midst 
of  so  many  chefs-d'oeuvre,  he  presented  a  little  Ma- 
donna. 

Murillo  underwent  the  most  terrible  anguish  during 
the  few  moments  which  Velasquez  took  to  study  the 
picture  :  he  dared  not  interrogate  the  face  of  his  judge, 
and  awaited  his  doom  with  a  trembling  heart. 

"  This  rough  sketch  predicts  your  future  welfare," 
said  Velasquez,  at  last.  "Courage,  my  friend,  and  a 
day  will  come  when  Seville  will  be  proud  of  you." 

Murillo,  suffocated  with  joy,  fell  on  his  knees  before 
him  who  predicted  his  glory.  Velasquez  raised  him, 
and  pressed  him  to  his  bosom,  without  the  young  man's 
finding  a  word  to  express  his  happiness  and  his  grati- 
tude. 

"  What  is  your  name?  "  asked  Velasquez. 

"Murillo,"  replied  the  stranger;  "and  if  ever  your 
grace  needs  some  one  to  die  for  you,  my  life  is  at  your 
disposition." 

"Thank  you,  my  child,"  said  Velasquez ;  I  believe 
in  your  gratitude  and  devotion,  but,  thanks  to  God,  I 
hope  never  to  claim  such  a  proof  of  it.  You  will  not 
die  for  me,  Murillo ;  you  will  live  for  art.  And  now, 
shall  I  advise  you  ?  " 


PAINTERS.  237 

"  I  listen,  my  lord." 

"Do  not  go  to  Italy.  Madrid  offers  you,  for  some 
years  at  least,  all  that  you  can  ask  in  Rome.  The 
royal  castles,  the  Escurial,  this  palace,  and  my  studio, 
contain  a  sufficiently  large  number  of  pictures  from  dif- 
ferent masters  ;  all  these  are  open  to  you.  Study  them, 
and  when  you  have  succeeded  in  gaining  a  name,  and 
have  created  some  resources,  it  will  be  easier  and  more 
advantageous  to  you  to  undertake  the  journey  to  Rome. 
Then  I  shall  be  able  to  recommend  you  to  some  cele- 
brated artists,  whose  acquaintance  I  made  when  I 
visited  that  beautiful  country  :  they  will  receive  you  as 
a  brother,  while  at  present  I  cannot  give  you  an  intro- 
duction to  them." 

"  What  kindness,  my  lord  !  Yes,  I  shall  follow  your 
advice,  and  after  a  few  years  I  hope  you  will  have  no 
cause  to  blush  for  the  noble  protection  you  deign  to 
grant  me." 

The  next  morning,  Murillo  received  permission  to 
enter  wherever  he  found  fine  models  to  copy.  Titian, 
Paul  Veronese,  Rubens,  Van  Dyck,  were  the  most  seduc- 
tive to  him,  and  became  his  favorite  masters.  His  genius 
developed  rapidly,  and  Velasquez,  charmed  with  having 
discovered  a  talent  of  the  first  order  in  his  rough 
sketches,  took  pleasure  in  teaching  all  the  secrets  of  his 
art  to  his  young  protege*.  Thanks  to  these  lessons,  and 
his  assiduous  industry,  Murillo,  who  had  commenced  by 
ardently  wishing  to  equal  Juan  del  Castillo,  and  after- 


238  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

wards  aspired  to  attain  to  Pedro  de  Moya,  had  nothing 
to  desire  from  Velasquez  himself. 

He  could  have  entered  into  competition  with  his  bene- 
factor, and  courted  royal  favor,  but,  influenced  by  grate- 
ful feelings  towards  Velasquez,  he  left  Madrid  to  return 
to  Seville.  His- fellow-citizens,  who  had  known  him  as 
a  poor  and  unskilful  youth,  paid  no  attention  to  his  re- 
turn ;  he  received  no  orders,  excepting  for  three  pictures 
for  the  cloister  of  St.  Francis  —  pictures  which  the  good 
fathers,  having  small  means,  could  not  afford  to  order 
from  any  artist  of  renown.  But  Murillo,  habituated 
to  living  poorly,  and  realizing,  besides,  how  important  it 
was  to  make  himself  known,  was  not  difficult  about  the 
conditions  of  payment,  and  set  himself  to  work.  When 
the  three  pictures  were  finished,  his  success  far  exceeded 
his  expectations.  The  chapel  of  the  Franciscans  was 
besieged,  so  to  say,  for  several  weeks;  everybody  was 
anxious  to  see  the  wonderful  pictures,  and  those  who  had 
seen  wished  to  see  again. 

The  reputation  of  Murillo  was  made.  He  received 
orders  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  and  two  years  after 
his  return  to  Seville  his  name  had  become  so  great  that 
he  could  marry  a  noble  and  rich  lady,  Dona  Beatrix  de 
Cabrera,  of  Sotomayor.  Exempt  from  ambition,  and 
preferring  independence  to  the  honors  with  which  he  had 
seen  Velasquez  surrounded,  Murillo  settled  himself  in 
Seville ;  and  if  he  did  not  give  up  the  idea  of  going  to 
Italy,  his  passion  for  work  prevented  his  accomplishing 
the  dream  of  his  youth. 


PAINTERS.  239 

Endowed  with  a  brilliant  and  fruitful  imagination, 
with  a  tender  and  poetic  soul,  he  preferred  those  sacred 
subjects,  which  permit  art  to  take  its  flight  into  in- 
finite space ,  to  all  others.  No  painter  has  created  more 
admirable  Virgins,  nor  given  such  divine  beauty  to  his 
Christs  and  his  Angels.  He  comes  nearer  the  Italian 
school  than  any  other  Spanish  master.  The  artists  of 
this  school  are,  for  the  most  part  at  least,  designated  by 
the  name  of  ideal  painters,  because  they  have  sought 
beauty  even  beyond  reality,  and  have  often  left  the  care 
of  divining  their  thoughts  to  the  understanding  of  their 
admirers.  The  Spanish  painters,  on  the  contrary,  are 
known  by  the  name  of  naturalists,  because  they  have 
tried  to  be  true,  and  have  expressed  all  their  ideas, 
without  leaving  anything  for  the  spectator  to  interpret. 
Eibera  and  Velasquez  are  first  among  the  naturalists. 
Velasquez  reproduced  Nature  with  more  naivete*  and 
charm  than  Kibera,  but  Ribera  painted  her  with  more 
force  and  power.  Although  Murillo  has  put  as  much 
poetry  and  ideal  as  the  Italian  artists  into  his  works,  he 
had  nevertheless  remained  faithful  to  the  traditions  of  the 
Spanish  school,  inasmuch  as  there  is  nothing  understood 
in  his  pictures.  Thus,  when  he  wishes  to  represent  a 
saint  in  ecstasy,  he  is  not  satisfied  with  giving  to  the 
physiognomy  of  the  saint  the  expression  which  it  ought 
to  have  ;  he  shows  the  divine  spectacle,  which,  visible  to 
his  eyes  for  an  instant,  sheds  upon  his  features  a  ray  of 
infinite  beatitude,  the  heavens  open,  Christ  is  in  his  glory, 
and  the  angels  surround  the  throne  of  the  Eternal. 


240  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

Murillo's  genius  was  most  brilliant  during  the  period 
which  preceded  his  death.  He  had  all  the  fresh  poetry 
of  his  youth  at  the  age  of  sixty  years,  and  his  pencil 
appeared  to  obey  his  noble  inspirations  more  faithfully 
than  ever.  Among  the  great  number  of  works  which 
Murillo  produced,  the  most  celebrated  belong  to  his  old 
age.  In  1674  he  finished  his  pictures  for  the  Charity 
Hospital,  vast  compositions,  among  which  are  the  Mul- 
tiplication of  Bread,  Moses  striking  the  Rock,  Abra- 
ham prostrated  before  the  three  Angels,  Return  of  the 
Prodigal  Son,  and  a  St.  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  which 
is  considered  one  of  the  most  precious  chefs-d'oeuvre  of 
painting. 

In  the  interval  between  1674  and  his  death  he  paint- 
ed twenty-three  large  pictures  for  the  convent  of  the 
Capuchins ;  a  Child  Jesus  distributing  Bread  to  the 
Poor,  and  the  Ecstasy  of  St.  Antonio  da  Padua, 
which  are  still  to  be  seen  in  one  of  the  chapels  of  the 
cathedral  of  Seville. 

Murillo,  invited  to  Cadiz  to  decorate  the  grand  altar 
of  the  Capuchins,  went  there  in  1681,  and  commenced 
the  Mystic  Marriage  of  St.  Catherine.  This  beautiful 
composition  would  have  added  to  his  glory,  if  he  had 
had  the  pleasure  of  finishing  it.  While  working,  he  fell 
from  the  scaffold  and  injured  himself  severely.  At  his 
request,  he  was  immediately  taken  back  to  Seville. 
All  the  care  by  which  he  was  surrounded  only  served 
to  prolong  his  sufferings,  and  he  expired  on  the  3d  of 
April,  1682,  at  the  age  of  sixty-four  years. 


^.     £Jr   *  ^    V*  * 

PAINTERS.  241 


His  fellow-citizens,  who  had  learned  to  know  and  to 
love  him,  bitterly  bewailed  his  loss.  They  buried  him 
in  the  church  of  Santa-Cruz,  in  a  chapel  of  which  he 
was  very  fond,  on  account  of  a  picture  by  Pietro  de 
Champagne,  which  he  had 'many  times  admired  during 
his  infancy  and  youth.  The  subject  was  a  Descent  from 
the  Cross.  One  day  Murillo  remained  so  long  after 
mass,  contemplating  the  picture,  that  it  was  time  to 
close  the  doors  of  the  church.  The  sacristan  gave  notice 
to  the  worshippers  to  retire,  but  the  young  man  heard 
nothing ;  without  doubt  he  would  have  remained  before 
the  altar  all  night,  as  he  had  all  day,  without  observing 
that  the  light  of  a  candle  had  taken  the  place  of  that  of 
the  sun,  if  the  sacristan,  seeing  him  standing  motion- 
less and  immovable,  had  not  come  to  him,  and  asked 
"  why  he  did  not  go." 

"I  am  waiting,"  answered  the  youth,  "until  the  holy 
people  have  brought  our  Savior  down  from  the  cross." 

The  sacristan  thought  he  was  crazy,  and  shrugging 
his  shoulders,  dismissed  him. 

Three  different  manners  are  distinguishable  in  Mu- 
rillo's  works ;  they  are  what  the  Spaniards  call  cold, 
warm,  and  misty ;  he  has  succeeded  equally  well  in  all 
three.  A  smooth  coloring,  a  light  and  gentle  pencil, 
skins  full  of  life  and  freshness,  good  understanding  of 
chiaro-scuro ,  a  true  and  piquant  manner,  and  an  irresis- 
tible charm,  render  the  productions  of  this  artist  very 
precious.  His  principal  works  are  at  Seville ;  but  the 
16 


242  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

Museum  of  the  Louvre  possesses  a  great  number  of  the 
paintings  of  this  master,  so  that  one  can  render  him  jus- 
tice without  going  to  Spain.  Among  the  paintings 
most  admired,  are  a  Holy  Family ,  an  Assumption, 
and  a  magnificent  Conception  of  the  Virgin,  bought 
from  the  heirs  of  Marshal  Soult  for  five  hundred  and 
eighty-six  thousand  francs. 

The  life  of  Murillo  was  as  peaceful  and  modest  as 
that  of  Velasquez  had  been  agitated  and  splendid ;  a 
friend  of  quiet  and  labor,  he  was  contented  with  his 
fate,  and  rendered  himself  doubly  happy  by  doing  good 
to  others.  The  qualities  of  his  heart  equalled  his  talent, 
and  not  forgetting  the  misery  of  his  childhood,  the  griefs 
and  cares  of  his  youth,  his  greatest  pleasure  was  to  give 
to  the  poor  a  part  of  the  riches  which  he  owed  to  his 
genius,  and  to  open  the  path  to  glory  for  artists  with- 
out fortune. 

Seville  is  indebted  to  him  for  an  Academy  of  Design, 
of  which  he  was  appointed  director,  and  where  he 
wished  to  be  the  first  teacher.  As  a  professor,  his  zeal, 
patience,  and  kindness  won  all  hearts.  His  pupils 
loved  and  venerated  him  as  a  father ;  he  had  a  great 
number,  of  whom  the  most  distinguished  are  Antolinez, 
Villavicencio,  Osorio,  and  Tobar,  who,  unable  to  attain 
the  reputation  of  their  master,  endeavored,  at  least,  to 
follow  in  his  footsteps. 

Murillo  had  two  sons,  whom  he  wished  to  become 
artists.  Gabriel,  the  elder,  preferred  commerce  to 


PAINTERS.  243 

painting,  and  went  to  America  to  acquire  wealth. 
Gaspard  remained  with  his  father,  and  became  his  pupil ; 
but  Murillo,  seeing  that  nature  had  not  endowed  hirn 
with  a  taste  for  art,  did  not  encourage  him  to  apply 
himself  to  painting,  but  left  him  at  liberty  to  enter  the 
ecclesiastical  state. 

In  the  space  of  thirty  years  Spain  brought  forth  three 
great  geniuses,  Ribera,  Velasquez,  and  Murillo,  with- 
out speaking  of  Alonzo  Cano,  who  distinguished  him- 
self as  a  sculptor,  painter,  and  architect.  Spain  pro- 
duced no  more  celebrated  painters  after  these. 


RUBENS. 

Peter  Paul  Rubens  was  born  at  Cologne,  June  29, 
1577.  His  family  was  originally  from  Styria,  and  at- 
tached to  the  house  of  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  Bar- 
tholomew Rubens,  his  ancestor,  went  to  Flanders,  at 
the  coronation  of  the  emperor,  which  took  place  at  Aix- 
la-Chapelle,  where  he  married,  and  obtained  permission 
to  give  up  his  position  at  the  court,  in  order  to  establish 
himself  in  his  wife's  family. 

John  Rubens,  father  of  the  great  artist,  was  born 
from  this  union  ;  he  also  married  a  young  girl  of  Ant- 
werp, by  the  name  of  Marie  Pipeling.  John  Rubens 
was  much  esteemed  in  Antwerp ;  he  was  elected  coun- 
cillor of  the  Senate,  which  office  he  held  six  years. 


244  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

Later  he  settled  in  Cologne.  Having  lost  considerable 
property,  he  became  a  silversmith,  and  bought  the  house 
in  which  Marie  de  Medici  afterwards  died. 

He  had  six  children  when  Peter  Paul  was  born,  and 
this  family  was  not  only  one  of  the  most  upright,  but 
one  of  the  happiest  in  Cologne.  The  birth  of  this 
seventh  child  was  hailed  as  a  favor  of  Providence,  and 
yet  none  could  foresee  how  glorious  the  name  of  the 
frail  little  creature  was  destined  to  be. 

The  Prince  of  Chimay  and  the  Countess  of  Lalaing 
were  his  sponsors.  His  first  years  flowed  pleasantly  in 
the  midst  of  the  caresses  of  his  relatives,  who  tenderly 
loved,  and  would  have  spoiled  him,  if  his  father  and 
mother,  who  knew  the  importance  of  the  first  education 
of  children,  had  not  carefully  watched  over  him.  Peter 
Paul  was  of  remarkable  beauty,  and  of  so  precocious  an 
intelligence,  that  he  astonished  by  his  repartees  at  the 
age  of  five  years.  He  was  good-hearted,  gay,  and 
amiable,  but  of  extreme  petulance,  and  he  could  hardly 
bear  the  least  contradiction. 

His  father  gave  the  greatest  care  to  his  education  :  he 
chose  a  French  tutor  for  him,  and  as  he  himself  spoke 
only  in  Latin  with  him,  and  his  mother  in  Flemish, 
Peter  Paul  learned  the  three  languages  without  think- 
ing of  it.  He  was  afterwards  sent  to  college,  and  at 
the  age  of  ten  years  could  translate  Greek  authors  at 
sight :  he  played  very  well  on  the  lute,  was  a  good 
horseman,  and  learned  fencing;  in  a  word,  excelled  in 
everything  he  wished  to  learn. 


PAINTERS.  245 

John  Eubens  reflected  much  on  the  future  career  of 
this  child ;  he  felt  that  God  had  not  so  marvellously  en- 
dowed him  to  be  useless  in  the  world,  and  he  prayed 
that  he  might  be  permitted  to  direct  his  astonishing 
faculties  aright,  that  He  would  show  him  the  career 
which  Peter  Paul  ought  to  embrace.  The  worthy  man 
was  deprived  of  the  joy  of  witnessing  the  effect  of  his 
prayer.  One  evening,  as  he  was  quietly  reading  by  the 
fireside,  he  heard  a  voice  in  the  street  calling  for  help. 
He  rose  to  run  to  those  who  were  in  danger,  but  in  his 
hurry  he  struck  his  head  against  the  cornice  of  the 
chimney,  and  broke  his  temple. 

This  sad  loss  decided  the  mother  of  Peter  Paul  to 
settle  her  property,  and  return  to  Antwerp,  where  she 
had  relations.  The  young  Rubens  continued  his  studies 
there  with  the  same  success  as  at  Cologne  :  he  soon  ex- 
celled all  his  schoolmates,  and  the  regular  course  of  his 
studies  not  sufficing  for  his  ardor,  he  learned  English, 
Spanish,  and  Italian.  If  it  had  been  a  source  of  disquiet 
to  John  to  know  what  profession  was  best  to  give  his  son, 
one  may  easily  imagine  how  much  this  case  occupied  his 
widow.  The  Countess  of  Lalaing  having  expressed  a 
desire  to  have  Peter  Paul  as  a  page,  his  mother  assem- 
bled her  family  in  council,  and  each  member  advising  her 
to  accept  the  offer  of  the  noble  lady,  the  godson  of  the 
countess  left  college  to  live  with  her. 

But  the  dissipated  life  of  young  gentlemen  was  not 
pleasing  to  Kubens,  habituated  as  he  was  to  the  austere 


246  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

simplicity  of  his  paternal  roof.  After  an  absence  of  one 
year,  he  returned  to  visit  his  mother,  and  amused  him- 
self with  painting,  to  occupy  his  leisure.  From  a  little 
child  he  had  manifested  great  taste  for  drawing,  and 
had  resumed  his  pencil  when  wishing  to  escape  the 
ennui  inseparable  from  idleness.  One  morning  his 
mother  found  him  busy  finishing  a  small  picture,  with 
which  she  was  greatly  delighted.  Peter  Paul  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  moment  to  beg  permission  to  study  with 
some  painter  of  repute. 

Madame  Rubens  was  surprised  at  such  a  request ;  she 
could  not  believe  that  a  young  gentleman  like  her  son, 
having  all  that  could  be  desired  to  succeed  in  the  world, 
should  think  of  becoming  a  painter.  She  told  Paul  so, 
but  he  insisted  on  representing  to  her  the  vacant  and 
useless  life  which  he  was  leading  at  the  Countess  of  La- 
laing's.  The  \vise  lady  agreed  with  him  on  the  latter 
point,  and  decided  that  he  should  remain  at  home  with 
her.  This  was  something  gained,  but  it  was  not  all. 
The  taste  of  Rubens  for  painting  assumed  all  the  char- 
acter of  a  real  vocation.  He  often  spoke  of  it  to  his 
mother,  when  she  seemed  best  disposed  to  listen  to  him  ; 
but  she  would  not  consent.  Again  and  again  he  in- 
sisted, and  tried  to  persuade  her,  that  so  far  from  the 
profession  of  painting  being  unworthy  of  a  noble  man, 
it  was,  on  the  contrary,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
glorious  of  professions.  The  widow,  not  venturing  to 
take  upon  herself  either  the  responsibility  of  opposing 


PAINTERS.  247 

the  wish  of  her  son,  or  of  acceding  to  it,  again  convoked 
the  members  of  her  family,  and  after  Rubens  had  ex- 
pressed his  desires  and  hopes,  they  judged  it  best  not  to 
contradict  him. 

Some  days  afterwards,  Peter  Paul's  tutor  conducted 
him  to  Adam  Van  Ort,  a  painter  of  great  repute  in 
Antwerp,  and  placed  him  under  his  instruction.  Adam 
Van  Ort  was  a  coarse,  gross,  uneducated  man.  It  re- 
quired great  patience  on  the  part  of  Rubens  to  bear  with 
his  hard  and  scolding  humor,  but  the  love  of  art  silenced 
his  natural  vivacity.  He  remained  eighteen  months 
with  this  teacher.  One  day  Adam  entered  the  studio 
more  intoxicated  than  usual :  after  abusing  his  pupils, 
he  wished  to  beat  James  Jordaens,  the  youngest  and 
most  feeble  among  them.  Rubens  and  some  others 
took  the  child  from  him,  and  resolved  to  leave  such  an 
ill-behaved  professor.  Peter  Paul  went  home  to  his 
mother,  who  desired  him  to  give  up  painting  as  a  pro- 
fession, because  people  like  Van  Ort  followed  it. 

Before  young  Rubens  could  answer,  the  visit  of  Prince 
Chimay,  his  godfather,  was  announced.  The  prince  in- 
troduced to  Madame  Rubens  a  stranger  who  accompa- 
nied him,  who  was  no  other  than  Master  Otto  Vaenius, 
then  the  most  celebrated  painter  in  Flanders.  Paul, 
who  had  long  known  him  by  reputation,  begged  him  to 
take  him  as  a  pupil ;  and  Lady  Rubens,  seeing  the  re- 
spect and  esteem  in  which  this  artist  was  held,  perceived 
that  there  were  more  worthy  representatives  of  painting 


248  THE   PRINCES    OF    ART. 

than  Yan  Ort.  Otto  Voenius  wished  to  see  some  of 
young  Rubens's  works  before  entering  into  any  engage- 
ment. A  little  picture,  the  Rape  of  Orithyia,  which  the 
young  man  had  made  as  a  gift  to  his  mother,  was  shown 
him.  The  painter  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise  and  admi- 
ration at  sight  of  the  picture  :  he  embraced  Rubens, 
predicting  that  he  would  one  day  be  not  only  the  great- 
est painter  of  Flanders,  but  of  the  world. 

Dame  Rubens,  hearing  this  from  one  who  was  con- 
sidered as  a  most  skilful  painter,  made  no  hesitation 
about  confiding  her  son  to  his  care.  The  next  morning 
Otto  Vaenius  returned  to  Brussels,  where  Rubens  accom- 
panied him.  The  uncommon  ability  of  the  young  man, 
his  love  of  labor,  and  his  charming  character,  won  the 
affection  of  his  master,  who  regarded  him  as  a  son. 
Otto  Vaenius  well  knew  that  his  pupil  would  surpass 
him ;  but  feeling  no  jealousy,  he  did  all  in  his  power  to 
develop  the  genius  with  which  Providence  had  endowed 
him. 

During  three  years  Rubens  was  the  object  of  his 
most  tender  solicitude  ;  and ,  .knowing  that  it  was  indis- 
pensable for  the  young  man  to  travel,  he  encouraged  a 
separation  which  was  painful  to  himself. 

"  For  a  long  time  I  have  had  nothing  to  teach  you, 
my  son,"  he  said  to  him;  "henceforth  my  instruction 
would  be  superfluous  :  you  must  go  to  Italy,  where  the 
study  of  the  chefs-d'oeuvre  of  the  great  masters  will 
perfect  you." 


PAINTERS.  249 

Rubens  could  not  refrain  from  weeping  at  the  thought 
of  separating  from  his  second  father,  although  he  ardently 
desired  to  go  to  Rome.  He  made  no  objection  to  fol- 
lowing the  advice  of  his  worthy  master,  and  Otto  Vaenius 
went  with  him  to  obtain  the  consent  of  Dame  Rubens 
to  this  voyage.  Paul's  relations  deliberated  again,  and 
then  gave  the  young  painter  permission  to  leave  Flan- 
ders. 

Otto  Vsenius  had  many  friends  in  Italy,  to  whom  he 
addressed  letters  of  recommendation  for  his  dear  pupil ; 
and  he  charged  him  to  present  himself  to  the  Arch-Duke 
Albert,  and  his  wife  Isabella,  before  leaving.  Rubens 
was  most  kindly  received  by  them ;  the  arch-duke  to«k 
a  gold  chain  from  his  own  neck,  and  put  it  upon  that 
of  Rubens,  "in  order,"  he  said,  "to  keep  him  in  remem- 
brance of  the  ties  which  ought  to  attach  him  to  his 
country."  The  arch-duchess  presented  him  with  a  mag- 
nificent ring.  After  receiving  the  good  wishes  of  his 
mother,  and  her  blessing,  and  bidding  adieu  to  his 
brothers  and  sisters,  he  set  out  in  May  of  the  year  1600. 

His  first  visit  was  to  Venice,  where  he  was  transported 
by  the  works  of  Titian,  Giorgione,  and  Paul  Veronese ; 
he  studied  them  carefully,  and  tried  to  imitate  what  was 
most  striking  in  the  manner  of  each.  A  nobleman 
from  Mantua,  who  saw  some  of  Rubens's  pictures,  found 
them  so  beautiful,  that  he  wrote  to  Vincent  de  Gon- 
zaga,  Duke  of  Mantua,  in  praise  of  this  young  artist. 
Vincent  immediately  invited  Rubens  to  his  court,  and 


250  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

finding  that  his  praises  had  not  been  exaggerated,  named 
him  his  painter,  made  him  munificent  presents,  and 
otherwise  showed  him  much  affection  and  esteem. 

Some  differences  having  arisen  between  the  King  of 
Spain  and  the  duke,  the  latter,  wishing  to  send  some 
person  capable  of  dissipating  the  prejudices  which  the 
king  had  against  him,  chose  Rubens  as  one  in  whom  he 
could  best  confide.  The  young  man  accepted  the  mis- 
sion, and  departed  for  Spain,  with  a  suite  of  twenty-two 
persons. 

He  offered  Philip  III.,  on  the  part  of  Vincent,  a 
magnificent  carriage,  with  six  Neapolitan  horses.  Al- 
though only  twenty  years  old,  he  exceeded  all  the  hopes 
of  the  duke.  His  loyalty,  his  frankness,  the  conviction 
with  which  he  spoke  of  the  court  of  Mantua,  gained 
him  the  most  complete  success.  Philip  III.  testified  his 
.  satisfaction  that  the  duke  had  chosen  him  for  ambassa- 
dor, and  at  his  departure  gave  tangible  proofs  of  his 
kindly  feeling  towards  him.  The  Duke  of  Mantua  re- 
ceived him  with  open  arms,  proclaimed  him  as  skilful  a 
diplomatist  as  a  great  painter,  and,  according  to  an  his- 
torian of  Ferrara,  required  that  he  should  pass  the  whole 
day  in  the  apartment  of  the  duchess,  as  a  son  of  the 
house. 

A  year  passed  before  Rubens  could  think  of  leaving 
Mantua;  however,  as  all  the  kindness  of  the  duke 
could  not  make  him  forget  the  purpose  for  which  he  had 
come  to  Italy,  he  solicited  and  obtained  his  dismissal. 


PAINTERS.  251 

Vincent  forced  him  to  accept  a  large  sum  of  money, 
and  made  him  a  present  of  a  superb  gold  chain,  "al- 
though," continues  the  same  historian,  "  Kubens  had 
received  so  many  since  he  came  to  Spain,  that  there  was 
no  more  place  on  his  breast  for  the  new  one :  he  wore 
about  twenty  thousand  ducats  worth  of  gold  and  precious 
stones,  presents  and  honorable  testimonials  of  kings, 
princes,  and  princesses,  whose  portraits  he  had  painted, 
or  whose  courts  he  had  visited. 

Kubens  went  to  Kome,  and  was  received  with  every 
mark  of  distinction  by  the  Cardinal  Cynthio  Aldobran- 
dini,  to  whom  Duke  Vincent  had  recommended  him. 
Aldobrandini  presented  him  to  his  uncle,  Pope  Clement 
VII.,  who,  charmed  with  the  talent  of  the  artist,  en- 
deavored to  retain  him  in  Rome  ;  but  Peter  Paul  desired 
to  remain  only  a  few  months  :  he  painted  three  pictures, 
which  had  been  ordered  by  the  Arch-Duke  Albert  for 
the  chapel  of  St.  Helena,  in  the  church  of  the  Holy 
Cross,  and  then  departed  for  Florence. 

The  duke,  very  happy  to  have  a  visit  from  him,  en- 
gaged him  to  paint  his  own  portrait,  and  placed  it  in 
the  gallery  where  were  the  portraits  of  the  greatest 
painters  in  the  world.  After  executing  some  important 
works  in  Florence,  he  went  to  Bologna,  on  a  visit  to 
the  Carracci,  and  returned  to  Venice,  to  enjoy  the  im- 
mortal compositions  of  the  painters  who  have  rendered 
that  city  illustrious.  The  Pope  recalled  him  to  Rome ; 
and  while  there  he  painted  twelve  pictures,  representing 


252  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

the  twelve  apostles,  for  the  Palace  Rospigliosi.  He 
also  painted  several  pieces  for  the  Princess  Scalamara, 
the  Cardinal  Chizi,  Prince  Colonna,  and  the  Pope. 
Having  a  desire  to  return  to  Flanders,  he  set  out  for 
Milan  and  Geneva,  which  he  wished  to  see  before  leav- 
ing Italy. 

At  Milan  he  drew  the  famous  Supper  of  Leonardo  da 
Vinci.  He  stopped  much  longer  at  Geneva,  which  he 
intended  to  see  in  passing  only  :  there  he  designed,  and 
had  engraved,  a  splendid  collection,  which  was  afterwards 
published  at  Antwerp,  under  the  title  of  Palazzi  di 
Genoa. 

Peter  Paul  did  not  wish  to  undertake  anything  new 
until  he  had  seen  again  his  native  country,  and  embraced 
his  mother :  it  was  seven  years  since  he  left  that  dear 
mother,  and  during  that  time  he  had  acquired  fortune 
and  glory  enough  to  satisfy  the  most  ambitious  person ; 
he  had  done  enough  to  render  the  name  which  he  bore 
celebrated  ;  he  felt  the  need  of  witnessing  the  joy  of  his 
dear  mother  at  his  return,  and  receiving  her  maternal 
felicitations,  after  so  many  others.  He  freighted  a 
small  vessel,  which  was  to  take  him  immediately  to 
Flanders,  and  he  prepared  to  depart.  Just  as  he  was 
about  to  embark,  he  received  a  letter,  informing  him 
that  this  good  mother  was  dangerously  ill,  and  desired 
to  see  him  before  she  died.  Who  can  tell  the  grief  and 
mortal  anguish  to  which  he  was  a  prey  during  the  journey  ? 
At  Flanders  he  heard  that  he  was  too  late.  .  .  .  Then, 


PAINTERS.  253 

instead  of  going  to  Antwerp,  where  his  family  awaited 
him,  he  shut  himself  up  in  the  convent  of  St.  Michael, 
where  his  mother  was  buried.  He  remained  there  four 
months,  giving  himself  up  entirely  to  his  grief,  and  the 
pious  care  of  erecting  a  monument  to  his  beloved  moth- 
er. He  had  no  wish  to  leave  the  cloister ;  and  all  the 
prayers  of  Otto  Vaenius,  his  good  master,  and  those 
of  Arch-Duke  Albert,  were  hardly  sufficient  to  make 
him  resume  his  pencil. 

The  arch-duke  called  him  to  court,  named  him  his 
painter,  and  gave  him  the  chamberlain's  golden  key. 
Rubens  could  no  longer  resist  so  much  kindness ;  but 
fearing  that  if  he  remained  at  the  palace  he  should  not 
have  time  enough  to  work,  he  obtained  permission  to 
settle  in  Antwerp,  where  he  bought  a  house,  and  recon- 
structed it  in  Roman  style,  and  collected  therein  all  the 
objects  of  art  which  he  had  bought  in  travelling,  such 
as  paintings,  antique  statues,  busts,  bass-reliefs,  medal- 
lions, and  cameos.  He  arranged  a  magnificent  studio, 
with  a  royal  staircase  leading  to  it,  over  which  immense 
pictures  could  be  carried. 

Soon  after  Rubens  had  settled  in  Antwerp,  he  mar- 
ried Isabella  Brant,  a  good  and  beautiful  young  lady, 
the  niece  of  his  elder  brother  Philip's  wife.  His  first 
child,  named  Albert,  was  held  at  the  baptismal  font  by 
the  arch-duke. 

No  painter  ever  rose  so  quickly,  or  so  high,  in  the 
esteem  of  his  fellow-countrymen.  Before  going  to  Italy, 


254  THE    PEINCES    OF   ART. 

Rubens,  by  the  advice  of  Otto  Vsenius,  had  concealed 
his  paintings  from  public  view  ;  since  his  return  to  Flan- 
ders he  had  done  nothing,  and  yet  was  much  talked  of. 
His  reputation  overshadowed  that  of  other  painters,  who, 
after  giving  way  to  jealousy  for  a  short  time,  recognized 
his  superiority ;  and  after  seeing  a  Holy  Family,  which 
the  arch-duke  had  ordered  of  Peter  Paul  to  ornament 
his  oratory,  they  became  his  most  ardent  admirers. 

The  fraternity  of  St.  Ildefonso,  for  whom  he  painted 
a  picture  representing  the  Virgin  seated  upon  a  golden 
throne,  and  giving  the  chasuble  to  St.  Ildefonso,  received 
him  as  a  member.  He  also  painted  the  portraits  of 
Albert  and  Isabella  upon  the  two  shutters  which  covered 
the  picture.  The  admiration  caused  by  this  beautiful 
picture  surpasses  all  that  can  be  imagined.  The  treas- 
urer of  the  fraternity  offered  Rubens  a  large  sum  for  it, 
which  he  refused,  saying  that  he  was  but  too  well  paid 
by  the  honor  of  being  a  member  of  their  illustrious 
society. 

Every  year  that  followed  the  establishment  of  Rubens 
in  Flanders  added  to  his  talent,  his  renown,  and  his  for- 
tune. He  lived  like  a  prince ;  yet,  faithful  to  art,  to 
which  he  was  so  much  indebted,  he  never  felt  happier 
than  when  he  was  at  work  in  his  studio.  Peter  Paul 
was  not  only  an  eminent  painter,  but  also  an  architect. 
The  Jesuits  of  Antwerp  wished  the  plan  of  a  church,  in 
the  construction  of  which  they  could  use  a  large  quan- 
tity of  different  marbles,  taken  by  the  Spaniards  from 


PAINTERS.  255 

an  Algerine  corsair.  The  church,  which  was  much 
admired,  was  built  on  Kubens's  plan,  and  he  enriched  it 
with  magnificent  pictures.  Unfortunately  this  church 
was  entirely  destroyed  by  lightning  in  1718. 

The  queen,  Marie  de  Medici,  wishing  to  decorate  the 
Palace  of  Luxembourg,  charged  the  ambassador  to 
Flanders  to  invite  Rubens  to  Paris.  He  went,  and, 
after  an  understanding  with  the  princess  upon  the  sub- 
jects which  he  should  paint,  he  obtained  permission  to 
execute  them  at  his  own  home.  Peter  Paul  was  twenty 
months  painting  twenty-four  pictures,  which  contain  the 
whole  history  of  Marie  de  Medici  up  to  1620,  the  time 
at  which  they  were  painted.  Rubens  took  them  to 
Paris,  and  attended  to  placing  them,  to  the  great  joy  of 
the  queen,  who  never  tired  of  admiring  the  talent  dis- 
played in  them,  and  the  promptitude  with  which  he  had 
gratified  her  wishes. 

The  court  shared  the  queen's  enthusiasm,  and  Rubens 
was  employed  to  retrace  the  great  deeds  of  Henry  IY. 
in  a  new  suite  of  pictures  —  a  task  which  he  accepted 
with  great  pleasure.  Soon  after,  discord  breaking  out 
between  the  queen-mother  and  Louis  XIII.,  Marie  de 
Medici  left  France,  and  the  work  of  the  great  painter 
was  interrupted. 

Rubens  saw  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  ambassador 
from  England,  in  Paris,  and  learned  from  him  that 
Charles  I.  would  willingly  renew  the  old  relations  with 
Spain,  which  had  been  troubled  by  various  events. 


256  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

Rubens  reported  the  words  of  Buckingham  to  the  Arch- 
Duchess  Isabella,  daughter  of  the  King  of  Spain  ;  and 
she,  knowing  how  much  one  could  depend  upon  the 
ability  of  the  artist,  empowered  him  to  hold  a  diplomatic 
correspondence  with  the  duke,  whilst  she  would  under- 
take to  bring  the  King  of  Spain  to  the  sentiments  ex- 
pressed by  the  court  of  England. 

Rubens  did  not  neglect  his  painting,  even  while  occu- 
pied in  these  negotiations.  It  was  about  this  time  that 
he  painted  those  of  his  pictures  which  he  considered  the 
best.  Shut  up  in  a  castle,  which  he  built  near  Malines, 
he  painted  many  admirable  compositions  for  the  cathe- 
dral and  church  of  St.  .John  of  Malines,  among  which 
is  the  Miraculous  Draught  of  Fishes. 

The  death  of  his  wife,  in  1626,  tore  him  away  from 
this  pleasant  solitude ;  his  friends  urged  him  to  travel, 
to  divert  his  grief.  He  went  through  Holland,  visited 
all  the  artists  of  renown,  and  enriched  his  collections  with 
some  of  their  works,  for  which  he  paid  royally.  In  this 
journey  he  also  found  the  means  of  being  useful  to  the 
arch-duchess,  by  bringing  about  a  good  understanding 
between  the  states  of  Holland  and  the  court  of  Brussels. 

Shortly  afterwards  the  King  of  Spain,  Philip  IV., 
wrote  to  the  arch-duchess,  his  daughter,  to  send  Rubens 
to  him,  that  he  might  confer  with  him  upon  the  subject 
of  the  negotiations  undertaken  with  England.  He  set 
out  for  Madrid  in  1627  :  it  was  there  that  he  met  Velas- 
quez, with  whom  he  formed  an  intimate  friendship. 


PAINTERS.  257 

Philip  was  as  much  astonished  by  his  penetration  and 
ability  in  business  matters  as  by  his  wonderful  talent 
for  painting :  this  prince  retained  him  at  his  court 
eighteen  months ;  he  then  sent  him  to  England,  after 
having  presented  him  with  a  ring  of  inestimable  value, 
and  six  Andalusian  horses,  the  handsomest  that  could 
be  found.  When  Rubens  arrived  in  London,  Bucking- 
ham was  dead ;  he  then  addressed  himself  to  Chancellor 
Cottington,  who  presented  him  to  the  king. 

Charles  I.  received  the  illustrious  painter  with  due 
honors,  and  ordered  a  portrait.  But  the  mind  of  Rubens 
was  bent  upon  the  mission  with  which  he  had  been  in- 
trusted by  Philip  IV.  :  he  rendered  his  conversation 
agreeable  to  the  king,  who,  knowing  that  he  came  from 
Spain,  conversed  upon  the  difficulties  existing  between 
the  two  countries.  Then  Rubens  told  him  of  the 
propositions  of  which  he  was  bearer ;  and,  Charles  hav- 
ing accepted  him  as  a  mediator,  he  succeeded  in  making 
the  basis  of  a  treaty  of  peace,  favorable  to  England  as 
well  as  to  Spain.  Charles  was  so  delighted  that  he 
knighted  Rubens  in  full  Parliament,  put  a  valuable  ring 
upon  his  finger,  gave  him  a  chain,  with  his  portrait 
attached,  and  forced  him  to  accept  the  bordering  of  his 
hat,  which  was  worth  thirty  thousand  francs.  Rubens 
left  seventeen  pictures  in  England,  a  painted  ceiling,  in 
the  Palace  of  Whitehall,  and  an  equestrian  portrait  of 
the  king,  under  the  figure  of  St.  George. 

The  great  artist  returned  to  Brussels,  for  a  short  time, 
17 


258  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

on  his  way  to  Spain,  charged  by  the  arch-duchess  with 
a  mission  for  Philip  IV.  This  prince,  well  pleased  with 
what  he  had  accomplished  in  London,  gave  him  the 
Golden  Key,  —  a  very  enviable  distinction  at  the  court 
of  Spain,  — made  him  other  presents,  and  charged  him 
with  instructions  for  the  States  of  Holland. 

Rubens  was  delighted  to  return  home  to  Antwerp, 
where  he  recommenced  work  with  a  feeling  of  happiness 
to  which  he  had  long  been  a  stranger.  Although  he 
had  not  abandoned  art,  he  had  been  much  distracted  by 
diplomacy  during  the  four  years  which  had  passed.  He 
resolved  henceforward  to  live  as  a  simple  citizen,  and 
married,  for  his  second  wife,  Helena  Forman,  who, 
much  younger  than  he,  of  great  beauty,  sought  only 
the  glory  of  his  name,  which  she  should  partake  by  this 
alliance.  More  than  once  did  Rubens  regret  his  sweet 
and  modest  Isabelle,  who  loved  him  for  himself,  and 
never  had  other  care  than  for  his  happiness. 

The  illustrious  painter  found  a  great  consolation  in 
his  labors  :  assailed  by  demands  for  his  pictures,  he  suc- 
ceeded, through  his  great  facility,  in  satisfying  them. 
Besides,  his  pupils,  sincerely  devoted  to  his  glory,  did 
for  him  what  Raphael's  pupils  had  done  :  the  thoughts 
of  the  master  sprang  up  under  their  pencils,  and  Rubens, 
by  some  wise  finishing  strokes,  impressed  the  seal  of  his 
genius  upon  them. 

His  beautiful  and  glorious  career  finished  but  too 
soon.  Peter  Paul  was  not  fifty-five  years  old  when 


PAINTERS.  259 

violent  attacks  of  gout  interrupted  his  work.  At  first, 
sustained  by  the  thought  that  his  sufferings  would  dimin- 
ish, he  hoped  for  relief;  but  they  increased  so  much  that 
he  understood  that  he  was  past  recovery,  and  resigned 
himself,  calling  to  mind  the  virtues  of  his  father,  and  the 
pious  lessons  of  his  mother.  He  suffered  the  most  ter- 
rible pains,  and  the  idleness  they  imposed  upon  him,  for 
six  years,  without  a  murmur :  finally  he  died,  May  30, 
1640,  at  the  age  of  sixty-three  years. 

He  was  buried  in  the  Church  of  St.  James,  at  Ant- 
werp, where  Helena  raised  a  tomb  to  his  memory,  the 
most  beautiful  ornament  of  which  is  a  picture  by  Rubens's 
own  hand. 

The  principal  works  of  this  great  master  are  at  Brus- 
sels, Ghent,  Malines,  Antwerp,  London,  Paris,  Madrid, 
and  Rome.  There  is  no  museum  which  does  not  possess 
one  or  more  :  it  is  estimated  that  he  left  at  least  thirteen 
hundred  pictures.  No  kind  of  painting  was  unknown  to 
him,  — history,  landscapes,  portraits,  fruits  and  flowers, 
animals,  —  all,  in  turn,  occupied  his  pencil,  without 
one's  being  able  to  say  in  which  he  excelled.  In  Ru- 
bens were  united  all  the  qualities  which  make  great 
painters,  —  an  elevated  genius,  vivid  and  fruitful  imagi- 
nation, varied  instruction,  a  bold,  easy,  and  light  touch, 
true  and  brilliant  coloring.  The  brilliancy,  harmony, 
and  strength  which  characterize  his  pictures  cannot  be 
too  much  admired.  Nowhere  can  be  found  more  beau- 
tiful ideas,  rendered  with  more  nobleness  and  charm, 


260  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

more  varied  positions  of  the  head,  more  life-like,  fresher 
skins,  gracefully-thrown  draperies,  or  more  truthful  and 
more  feeling  expression.  Some  critics  reproach  him 
with  incorrectness  in  his  figures,  and  heavy  design ;  but 
if  some  of  Rubens's  works  have  these  faults,  it  may  be 
supposed  that  they  are  not  entirely  from  his  own  hand ; 
for  those  which  he  did  himself,  with  care,  are  exempt. 

Rubens  invented  so  easily,  that,  if  he  painted  the 
same  subject  several  times,  he  always  found  a  new 
arrangement  for  the  scenes  he  was  to  reproduce,  differ- 
ent attitudes,  and  different  personages ;  he  made  an  al- 
most new  creation  of  each  copy.  He  worked  with  such 
freedom  of  mind,  that  he  listened  to  the  reading  of  cele- 
brated authors  and  poets,  or  recited  verses  himself,  while 
painting.  The  drawings  of  this  artist  are  of  a  firm  and 
wise  touch,  and  replete  with  spirit  and  harmony.  Ru- 
bens also  engraved  several  pieces. 

The  genius  of  this  great  man  would  have  raised  him  to 
the  first  rank  in  whatever  career  he  might  have  chosen. 
As  a  child,  he  was  remarkable  for  the  facility  with  which 
he  acquired  languages,  belles-lettres,  and  sciences ;  as 
a  young  man,  he  excelled  in  arts ;  at  the  age  of  man- 
hood, he  conducted  the  most  difficult  negotiations  with 
uncommon  ability.  After  the  death  of  the  Arch-Duke 
Albert,  Isabella  often  called  upon  him  for  advice  and  as- 
sistance ;  the  kings  of  Spain  and  England  confided  their 
interests  to  him,  and  had  no  cause  to  repent  their  choice. 

From  the  age  of  twenty,  when  he  was  rich  and  hon- 


PAINTERS.  261 

ored,  to  the  time  of  his  death,  his  reputation  and  fortune 
continually  increased.  He  was  noble  in  appearance  and 
manners,  his  mind  was  brilliant  and  solid,  and  the  charm 
of  his  conversation  caused  him  to  be  sought  by  princes 
as  by  artists.  He  kept  up  a  correspondence  with  noble- 
men of  different  courts  of  Europe,  and  kings  them- 
selves were  happy  to  be  numbered  among  his  friends. 
His  house  was  a  magnificent  palace,  ornamented  with 
some  of  his  richest  pictures  :  there  he  received  the  visits 
of  guests  illustrious  by  their  rank  or  their  talent.  Eu- 
bens  lived  surrounded  by  his  pupils,  as  a  prince  sur- 
rounded by  his  court,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  as  a 
father  in  the  midst  of  his  children.  Among  the  pupils 
who  became  distinguished  were  Diepenbach,  Jacques 
Jordaens,  David  Teniers,  Juste,  Vanrnol,  Yan  Tulden, 
and  many  others  ;  but  Yan  Dyck  eclipsed  them  all,  and 
inherited  the  glory  of  his  master. 

Although  Rubens  had  studied  the  Italian  schools  with 
great  care,  he  belonged  to  none  of  them.  He  is  him- 
self the  head  of  a  school  which  changed  the  face  of 
painting.  We  find  nothing  of  the  idealistic  painters  in 
him  ;  he  has  imitated  Nature,  though  not  servilely ;  he 
knew  how  to  express  all  her  power  and  force  without 
diminishing  her  grace  and  beauty.  Something  great 
and  noble  prevents  this  imitation  of  nature  from  becom- 
ing trivial ;  and  if  he  has  not  obtained  his  types  from 
the  ideal,  they  are  none  the  less  remarkable  for  their 
grandeur  than  for  their  truth. 


262  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

VAN   DYCK. 

Antonio  Van  Dyck  was  born  at  Antwerp  the  22d  of 
March,  1599.  His  father  was  a  glass-painter,  and  his 
mother,  who  painted  landscapes  very  well,  gave  him 
early  instruction  in  painting,  and  he  succeeded  so  well, 
that  they  resolved  to  make  an  artist  of  him.  When  he 
was  old  enough  to  leave  his  paternal  home  for  the  studio 
of  a  master,  they  placed  him  under  the  care  of  Henry 
Van  Balen,  who  was  considered  a  very  skilful  painter; 
he  had  travelled  in  Italy,  and  studied  the  chefs-d'oeuvre 
of  that  country  with  great  success.  He  soon  perceived 
uncommon  ability  in  his  pupil,  which  he  cultivated  with 
zeal,  and  after  some  years  passed  under  his  direction, 
Van  Dyck  presented  himself  to  Eubens,  who  was  then 
the  king  of  painting. 

Rubens  took  him  into  the  number  of  his  pupils,  for 
whom  he  soon  became  a  second  master,  as  he  promptly 
seized  the  manner  of  the  illustrious  artist,  and  gained 
his  confidence  and  affection.  Rubens,  being  overbur- 
dened with  work,  left  to  Van  Dyck  the  care  of  painting 
the  most  unimportant  parts  of  his  pictures ;  then  he 
allowed  him  to  paint  the  whole,  reserving  the  finish- 
ing touches  for  himself,  before  inscribing  the  name 
Rubens. 

One  day,  when  the  great  master,  called  away  by  im- 
portant business,  had  forgotten  to  lock  the  door  of  the 


PAINTERS.  263 

particular  studio  in  which  he  loved  to  paint  alone,  his 
pupils,  yielding  to  their  curiosity,  slipped  in  to  examine 
his  work.  The  picture  was  the  Descent  from  the  Gross, 
one  of  his  masterpieces.  At  first  the  young  people  re- 
spectfully admired  the  beautiful  picture,  but  soon  for- 
getting where  they  were,  they  began  to  play,  and  the 
wildest  enticing  the  rest,  they  chased  each  other  in  high 
glee  through  the  studio,  until  one  of  them  slipped,  and 
falling,  threw  down  the  easel.  When,  raising  the  pic- 
ture, they  saw  that  the  arm  of  the  Magdalen  and  a 
part  of  the  Virgin's  face  were  effaced,  a  cry  of  dis- 
tress resounded  through  the  studio.  What  was  to  be 
done?  They  could  hope  for  no  indulgence  from  Eu- 
bens  for  a  fault  followed  by  such  an  accident ;  he  would 
send  the  guilty  ones  away,  without  doubt ;  and  where 
could  they  find  another  master  qualified  to  take  his  place  ? 

Van  Dyck  persuaded  his  comrades  to  cease  their  use- 
less complaints,  and  offered  to  try  to  repair  the  dam- 
age. He  set  about  it,  and  in  a  few  hours  the  picture 
was  as  Eubens  had  left  it.  The  pupils  went  out  of  the 
cabinet,  shutting  the  door,  and  each  anxiously  awaited 
the  morrow.  The  master  came  as  usual,  followed  by 
his  pupils,  to  whom  he  distributed  their  work  for  the 
day  :  he  stood  before  his  picture  of  the  Descent  from  the 
Cross,  examined  it  some  moments,  then,  satisfied  with 
his  work,  he  said  to  his  pupils,  — 

"How  do  this  head  and  this  arm  appear  to  you? 
It  is  surely  not  the  poorest  part  of  what  I  did  yester- 
day." 


264  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

The  pupils,  stupefied,  did  not  answer.  Rubens  com- 
menced work,  and  soon  discovered  that  the  parts  of  the 
picture  which  he  had  just  praised  were  not  from  his 
own  hand,  and  the  pupils  were  obliged  to  tell  him  the 
truth.  The  master  felicitated  Van  Dyck,  embraced  him 
tenderly,  and  advised  him  to  go  to  Italy.  The  young 
man  anticipated  the  voyage  with  pleasure ;  he  made  all 
preparations,  and  after  a  few  weeks,  took  leave  of  Ru- 
bens, who  gave  him  a  fine  horse,  a  purse  of  gold,  and 
wished  him  good  success. 

Some  historians  assert  that  Rubens,  fearing  that  his 
own  reputation  would  fade  before  Yan  Dyck's,  advised 
his  departure  ;  but  in  Rubens's  station  he  had  nothing  to 
fear,  and  we  are  much  more  inclined  to  think  that  his 
advice  was  wholly  disinterested. 

Yan  Dyck  joyfully  set  out  upon  the  beautiful  horse 
which  his  master  had  given  him,  yet  he  did  not  go  far. 
Captivated  by  the  beauty  of  a  young  girl  whom  he  saw 
in  one  of  the  villages  through  which  he  passed,  he  for- 
got Italy,  and  installed  himself  near  her  dwelling  for 
several  months.  Rubens,  hearing  this,  went  himself  to 
recall  Yan  Dyck  to  the  glory  which  he  was  renouncing. 
Docile  to  his  master's  voice,  Yan  Dyck  recognized  his 
error,  and  continued  his  route.  He  left  a  picture  in  the 
village,  /St.  Martin  tearing  his  Cloak  in  two  to  cover 
a  Beggar.  Yan  Dyck,  having  spent  all  the  money 
which  he  owed  to  Rubens's  liberality,  offered  the  curate 
to  make  any  picture  he  should  choose  for  his  church, 


PAINTERS.  265 

provided  they  would  furnish  him  with  canvas  and  colors. 
The  good  curate,  who  had  heard  the  young  man  spoken 
of  as  the  favorite  pupil  of  the  great  painter  of  Antwerp, 
did  not  hesitate  to  procure  what  he  wished,  and  was  so 
much  pleased  with  the  picture,  which  really  was  one  of 
Van  Dyck's  best,  that  he  immediately  paid  him  one 
hundred  florins. 

This  was  sufficient  for  the  young  man's  travelling  ex- 
penses. At  Venice,  he  studied  and  copied  the  com- 
positions of  Titian,  of  Paul  Veronese,  and  of  Tintoretto. 
Then  he  went  to  Kome,  Naples,  and  Sicily,  thence  to 
Genoa,  where  he  remained  some  time,  occupied  upon 
the  portraits  of  the  principal  characters  of  the  city. 
Finally,  content  with  the  progress  he  had  made,  he 
wished  to  see  Flanders  again.  In  a  few  years  he  at- 
tained a  brilliant  reputation,  which  was  heightened  by 
the  following  incident :  — 

The  Canons  of  Courtray  ordered  a  picture  for  the 
grand  altar  of  their  Chapter  House.  Van  Dyck  painted 
a  Christ  on  the  Cross,  and  chose  the  moment  at  which 
the  executioners  were  raising  the  cross,  to  which  Christ 
was  fastened,  to  place  it  in  the  ground.  The  picture 
was  admirable  :  but  unfortunately  it  did  not  please  the 
canons.  They  cried  out,  and  said  that  the  painter,  who 
had  been  so  much  praised,  was  good  for  nothing  but  a 
sign  dauber.  Van  Dyck  made  no  reply,  placed  the 
picture,  and  demanded  the  price  fixed,  refusing  to  take 
less.  The  canons  complained  of  their  misfortune  ;  but, 


266  THE   PRINCES    OF  ART. 

to  their  great  surprise,  the  connoisseurs,  to  whom  they 
showed  the  Christ,  declared  that  they  never  saw  any- 
thing more  beautiful.  The  more  the  picture  had  been 
decried,  the  more  it  was  praised ;  people  flocked  to  see 
it,  and  the  canons,  recognizing  their  error,  requested 
Yan  Dyck  to  paint  two  other  pictures,  which  he  refused 
to  do. 

Jealousy  excited  enmity  among  the  Flemish  painters, 
and  Yan  Dyck,  who  loved  peace,  left  Antwerp,  and  went 
to  establish  himself  at  the  Hague,  where  he  was  kindly 
received  by  the  Prince  of  Orange.  All  the  distinguished 
persons  of  the  court,  beginning  with  the  prince  and  prin- 
cess, wished  their  portraits  from  the  hand  of  Yan  Dyck. 

From  the  Hague  he  went  to  England,  where  he  was 
unknown,  and  remained  but  a  short  time.  After  his 
departure  they  learned  who  he  was,  and  King  Charles  I. 
sent  a  nobleman  after  him  to  beg  him  to  return.  Yan 
Dyck  accepted  the  invitation  of  the  king,  who  gave  him 
a  flattering  reception.  His  first  pictures  caused  much 
admiration  at  the  court :  Charles,  who  was  passionately 
fond  of  the  arts,  knighted  him,  presented  him  with  a 
gold  chain,  and  his  portrait  enriched  with  diamonds. 

The  royal  favor  enhancing  the  reputation  of  Yan 
Dyck,  he  was  overwhelmed  with  orders.  He  married 
into  the  illustrious  family  of  Count  Gowry,  lived  in 
great  style,  had  his  equerries,  pages,  and  the  most  beau- 
tiful horses  in  London.  The  luxury  of  his  table  equalled 
that  of  his  equipage  :  he  was  accustomed  to  invite  the 


PAINTERS.  267 

nobility,  who  came  to  his  studio  for  sittings,  and  hired 
musicians  played  the  most  delightful  symphonies  during 
the  repast. 

Van  Dyck  received  such  large  sums  for  his  smallest 
pictures,  that  he  could  have  allowed  himself  all  these 
expenses,  if  his  taste  for  alchemy  had  not  caused  him 
to  sacrifice  more  gold  on  chimerical  hopes  than  was 
necessary  for  his  family  expenses.  The  enormous  sums 
which  he  spent  obliged  him  to  forced  labor,  which  did 
not  fail  to  prey  upon  his  health.  At  first  he  did  not 
perceive  this  ;  and  finding  that  he  had  acquired  sufficient 
renown  in  England,  he  went  to  Paris,  to  solicit  the 
honor  of  painting  the  gallery  of  the  Louvre ;  but  he 
came  too  late :  the  decoration  of  the  gallery  had  been 
given  to  Poussin. 

Van  Dyck  then  returned  to  his  native  country,  but 
his  wife  not  being  able  to  habituate  herself  to  living  in 
Flanders,  he  took  her  back  to  England.  No  sooner 
was  it  known  that  he  had  returned,  than  he  was  over- 
powered with  orders  :  there  was  scarcely  a  nobleman  in 
the  whole  United  Kingdom  who  would  not  have  sold 
lands,  or  mortgaged  castles,  to  bequeath  his  portrait, 
painted  by  Van  Dyck,  to  his  descendants.  The  artist 
resumed  his  pencil,  refusing  to  listen  to  the  advice  of 
friends  who  begged  him  to  moderate  his  ardor.  Soon 
their  fears  were  realized ;  too  much  fatigue  exhausted 
the  illustrious  painter ;  he  sickened  and  died  at  the  age 
of  forty-one. 


268  THE   PRINCES   OF  AR*. 

He  was  buried  with  great  pornp  in  the  Church  of  St. 
Paul,  London,  and  a  magnificent  tomb  raised  to  him. 

The  principles  and  manner  of  Rubens  are  recognizable 
in  Van  Dyck's  works ;  however,  as  a  historical  painter, 
he  is  inferior  to  his  master,  although  his  pencil  is  often 
more  flowing,  and  neater,  his  complexions  fresher,  and 
his  drawing  more  elegant.  But  in  portraits,  Van  Dyck 
excelled.  He  could  catch  the  physiognomy  of  a  person, 
and  express  his  character  in  his  features ;  in  a  word, 
render  nature  with  more  grace,  spirit,  nobleness,  and 
truth  than  almost  any  other  painter.  A  brilliant  color- 
ing, heads  and  hands  perfect,  a  wonderful  understand- 
ing of  adjustment,  distinguish  the  portraits  of  Van 
Dyck,  and  place  them  by  the  side  of  those  of  Titian, 
which  they  excel,  even  in  beauty  of  detail. 

This  master  has  become  well  known  through  engrav- 
ing, and  he  himself  reproduced  some  of  his  best  pieces  in 
this  way.  We  are  indebted  to  him  for  the  portraits  of 
the  principal  artists  of  his  time,  portraits  for  which  he 
would  receive  no  remuneration,  being,  as  he  said,  but 
too  happy  to  be  able  to  immortalize  himself  by  repro- 
ducing the  features  of  those  to  whose  genius  posterity 
would  render  homage. 


PAINTERS.  269 

REMBRANDT. 

Paul  Gerretz,  known  by  the  name  of  Rembrandt, 
was  born  in  1606,  in  a  mill,  situated  upon  an  arm  of 
the  Rhine,  between  the  villages  of  Leyendorp  and  Kon- 
kerck,  some  leagues  from  Leyden.  His  father,  to  whom 
the  mill  belonged,  called  himself  Van  Rheyn,  to  dis- 
tinguish himself  from  the  other  members  of  the  family : 
this  name  is  often  added  to  that  of  the  painter,  whose 
history  we  are  about  to  relate. 

Paul  was  sent,  when  very  young,  to  the  University  of 
Leyden,  because  his  parents  wished  to  make  a  learned 
man  of  him,  and  preferred  any  other  than  the  paternal 
profession.  Their  disappointment  was  very  great,  when 
they  learned  that  either  through  want  of  intelligence,  or 
of  good  will,  the  child  made  very  little  progress.  Al- 
though it  grieved  them  very  much  to  renounce  the  hope 
of  his  becoming  a  learned  man,  they  took  him  home, 
determined  to  employ  him  in  the  mill.  Rembrandt  felt 
no  regret  at  leaving  Leyden,  but  his  father  soon  per- 
ceived that  his  assistance  would  be  of  trifling  use  to 
him.  Paul  paid  little  attention  to  the  instructions  which 
were  given  him,  and  instead  of  working,  he  passed  the 
greater  part  of  the  day  in  copying  engravings  which  he 
had  bought  at  Leyden,  or  in  drawing  the  different  ob- 
jects which  offered  themselves  to  his  view. 

"You  will  never  become  rich  if  you  spend  your  time 


270  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

in  such  childishness,"  said  his  father,  who  knew  that  he 
was  much  preoccupied  with  the  idea  of  making  a  fortune. 

"  Who  knows  my  father  ? "  replied  the  young  man. 
"  Have  you  not  heard  of  the  fabulous  wealth  of  Master 
Rubens,  the  Flemish  painter?  Why  should  not  I  make 
a  fortune  as  he  did  ?  " 

Van  Bheyn  shook  his  head. 

"Try  to  place  me  with  a  painter  for  some  months," 
said  Paul ;  "  and  if  at  the  end  of  the  time  he  does  not 
find  that  I  have  a  talent  for  painting,  I  will  return  to 
you,  and  then  I  promise  you  I  will  work." 

The  name  of  Rubens  had  awakened  in  the  heart  of 
the  miller  the  ambition  which  he  had  so  unwillingly 
renounced  of  seeing  his  son  distinguish  himself  in 
some  brilliant  career :  he  acceded  to  Paul's  desire,  and 
placed  him  in  the  studio  of  Jacques  Zvaanemburg. 
Jacques  was  not  an  able  master,  but  the  genius  of  his 
new  pupil  supplied  the  insufficiency  of  his  lessons.  In- 
stead of  some  months,  Rembrandt  passed  three  years 
under  his  direction,  and  left  him  to  go  to  Amsterdam, 
where  Peter  Lastman  and  George  Schooten  finished 
teaching  him  the  principles  of  painting.  When  he  had 
learned  all  that  he  could  from  them,  he  went  home,  and 
studied  nature  with  indefatigable  ardor.  His  father  and 
mother,  astonished  at  his  talent,  advised  him  to  establish 
himself  in  some  large  city,  not  doubting  that  he  would 
eclipse  the  greatest  painters.  But  Paul,  mistrusting 
their  judgment  in  this  matter,  obstinately  refused  to 


PAINTERS.  271 

allow  any  one  to  see  his  sketches.  He  worked  in  this 
way  some  time  longer ;  finally,  giving  way  to  the  en- 
treaties of  his  mother,  he  consented  to  show  a  small  pic- 
ture, which  he  had  just  finished,  to  some  of  his  friends. 
They  spoke  of  it  to  others,  and  strangers  who  were  in 
the  village  wished  to  see  the  works  of  the  young  miller. 
Great  was  their  surprise  on  seeing  a  finished  canvas, 
that  a  master  of  renown  would  acknowledge,  instead  of 
the  rough  sketch  of  a  beginner :  they  manifested  their 
pleasure  to  Rembrandt,  predicting  a  glorious  future,  and 
advising  him  to  carry  the  picture  to  the  city,  where  ama- 
teurs would  not  be  wanting. 

Paul  took  their  advice,  and  was  half  crazy  with  joy 
at  having  an  offer  of  one  hundred  florins  for  his  pic- 
ture. He  returned  in  triumph  to  the  paternal  mill,  but 
only  to  take  leave  of  his  parents,  for  he  had  already 
chosen  an  atelier  at  the  Hague.  As  soon  as  he  was  in- 
stalled there,  he  set  to  work  with  a  zeal  which  was 
stimulated  by  the  pleasure  of  receiving  considerable 
sums  for  each  of  his  pictures.  The  young  painter  made 
himself  known  in  a  short  time,  and  when  he  had  ac- 
quired the  degree  of  reputation  which  he  wished,  opened 
a  school  for  painting  and  received  quite  a  number  of 
pupils.  Rembrandt  set  a  good  price  upon  his  lessons, 
was  soon  in  easy  circumstances,  and  in  a  few  years  rich. 

Differing  from  those  artists  who,  for  the  most  part, 
spend  their  money  as  easily  as  they  gain  it,  and  who 
love  to  surround  themselves  with  all  the  superfluities  of 


272  THE    PRINCES   OF   ART. 

luxury,  and  all  that  pertains  to  an  elegant  life,  Rem- 
brandt adhered  to  his  habits  of  simplicity  and  parsi- 
mony. He  chose  a  rich  country  girl  for  a  wife,  that 
she  might  not  oblige  him  to  go  into  society,  for  which 
he  had  no  taste,  perhaps  because  he  could  not  go  with- 
out expense. 

Paul  loved  money,  not  for  the  enjoyments  which  it 
procured,  but  for  itself;  and  if  we  may  believe  his  his- 
torians, he  took  all  means  to  procure  it.  He  worked 
night  and  day  to  meet  the  numerous  orders  which  he 
received.  He  sold  the  copies  of  his  pupils  as  his  own 
work,  after  having  retouched  and  given  them  the  seal 
which  belonged  to  him  alone.  It  was  in  vain  that  per- 
sons distinguished  by  birth  or  talent  invited  him  to 
their  society ;  he  paid  no  attention  to  them,  and  continued 
to  prefer  the  society  of  the  common  people  to  theirs. 
When  asked  the  reason,  he  answered,  that  exempt  from 
all  ambition,  he  only  wished  to  live  free  and  forgotten ; 
but  he  was  careful  not  to  acknowledge  that  interest  had 
much  more  to  do  with  his  choice  than  modesty. 

The  only  passion  in  which  he  indulged  was  that  for 
old  furniture,  old  stuffs,  old  armor,  and  instruments  of 
all  sorts.  He  filled  his  studio  with  them,  so  that  on 
entering  one  might  have  supposed  himself  in  a  second- 
hand warehouse.  He  called  them,  jokingly,  his  an- 
tiques, since  some  connoisseurs,  observing  incorrectness 
in  some  of  his  works,  had  advised  his  going  to  Italy, 
to  perfect  himself  by  the  study  of  the  master-pieces  of 
antiquity. 


PAINTERS.  273 

Rembrandt  never  thought  of  undertaking  such  a 
journey ;  it  seemed  almost  that  he  feared  he  should  lose 
the  repute  he  was  enjoying,  by  the  ardor  with  which  he 
worked  the  mine  of  gold  which  his  pencil  had  opened  to 
him.  He  remained  the  whole  day  sitting  on  a  wooden 
bench  before  his  easel  in  the  midst  of  his  old  things,  and 
left  his  work  only  to  partake  of  his  repast,  which  almost 
invariably  consisted  of  a  salted  herring,  and  bread  and 
cheese,  with  cold  water.  He  was  careful  that  his  wife, 
the  children,  and  an  old  servant,  his  only  domestic,  thould 
follow  the  same  regimen,  or  some  other  of  no  greater  ex- 
pense. The  luxury  of  clothing  corresponded  to  that  of 
the  table ;  and  whoever  saw  Master  Rembrandt,  would 
have  taken  him  for  an  artisan,  in  common  circum- 
stances, and  not  for  an  arch-millionaire  painter. 

The  avaricious  enjoy  a  pleasure  unknown  to  others. 
When  all  were  asleep  in  his  house,  Paul  opened  the 
boxes  which  enclosed  his  treasures  and  contemplated 
them  with  exultation.  Music  had  for  his  ears  no  such 
agreeable  harmony  as  the  ringing  of  gold.  He  counted 
and  recounted  it,  plunged  his  hands  with  delight  into  the 
mass,  which  he  raised  and  let  fall  in  brilliant  cascades  ; 
then  trembling  with  the  fear  of  being  seen,  he  hastily 
closed  his  money-box,  and  kept  guard  over  it. 

When  some  poor  farmer,  ruined  by  the  unpropitious- 
ness  of  the  seasons,  could  not  pay  his  rent,  he  had  re- 
course to  Rembrandt,  who' was  said  to  be  rich,  very  rich ; 
when  children,  anxious  to  dissipate  the  paternal  heritage, 
18 


274  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

knocked  at  the  door  of  his  studio,  neither  farmer  nor 
young  gentleman  went  away  empty-handed,  if  they 
could  give  good  security,  and  were  willing  to  pay  usu- 
rious interest.  Rembrandt  must  be  well  paid  for  the 
privation  of  the  gold  which  he  could  neither  see,  hear, 
nor  admire  for  a  time. 

It  was  well  known  that  Rembrandt  was  a  miser ;  that 
he  lent  money  on  usury ;  that  he  was  not  scrupulous  in 
the  practice  of  any  trick  to  augment  his  wealth  ;  yet  peo- 
ple thought  much  of  his  talent  and  his  works,  so  that 
he  never  failed  to  sell  them,  let  him  ask  what  price  he 
would.  If  he  imagined  that  their  enthusiasm  was  in 
the  least  abating,  he  pretended  that  he  would  leave  Hol- 
land, or  go  to  Italy  or  France  to  live,  and  then  they 
would  pay  whatever  he  required,  thinking  that  perhaps 
it  would  be  the  last  of  his  chefs-d'oeuvre  which  they 
could  obtain. 

Very  often,  when  he  sent  his  son  to  sell  his  drawings 
or  his  engravings,  he  told  him  to  say  that  he  had  stolen 
them  from  him,  and  that  he,  Master  Rembrandt,  was 
saving  his  collection  of  drawings  and  engravings  for  a 
foreign  prince,  and  would  be  furious  if  he  knew  that 
they  were  being  sold  singly.  And  as  he  feared  that  the 
youth  might  keep  a  part  of  the  money  he  received  for 
himself,  he  never  failed,  after  having  taught  him  so  well 
to  lie,  to  sermonize  him  upon  the  horror  which  one 
ought  to  have  for  falsehood. 

The  oddest  idea  which  the  love  of  gain  could  suggest, 


PAINTERS.  275 

was  that  of  feigning  death.  He  confided  it  to  his  wife, 
who,  not  less  avaricious  than  he,  put  on  mourning,  and 
announced,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  that  Master  Rem- 
brandt, her  dear  husband,  who  had  left  home  for  a  few 
days,  was  dead.  The  news  quickly  spread,  and  amateurs 
soon  ran  to  the  house  of  the  deceased  to  trade  with  the 
widow  for  the  works  which  he  had  left.  The  studio 
was  well  filled  with  pictures,  which  were  sold  in  a  few 
hours,  at  much  greater  prices  than  had  been  offered  to 
the  artist  himself;  for,  since  he  was  dead,  they  could 
never  find  paintings  to  be  compared  to  his  for  the  magic 
of  coloring,  the  force  of  expression,  and  the  minute 
study  of  details.  The  traders  and  the  amateurs  com- 
peted for  the  possession  of  the  chefs-cPceuvre,  which 
became  the  property  of  him  who  paid  the  most.  Rem- 
brandt, concealed  behind  some  tapestry,  witnessed  the 
strange  comedy,  joyfully  rubbing  his  hands,  and  could 
with  difficulty  abstain  from  interfering  in  the  debates  of 
the  purchasers. 

When  the  sale  was  finished,  he  came  forward,  and 
warmly  thanked  his  admirers  for  all  the  praises  they 
had  bestowed  upon  him. 

"I  had  wished,"  he  said,  "to  know  what  posterity 
would  say  of  me,  and  the  proof  is  so  favorable,  that 
when  I  receive  my  final  summons,  I  shall,  thanks  to  you, 
gentlemen,  sleep  in  peace.  But  thanks  to  God,  I  hope  to 
work  many  years  longer,  and  to  satisfy  those  among  you 
who  were  regretting  that  you  possessed  only  a  small 
number  of  my  pictures." 


276  THE   PKINCES   OF  ART. 

The  astonished  assembly  thought  best  to  laugh  at 
the  ruse,  and  said  to  each  other,  that  a  man  of  genius  is 
permitted  to  be  a  little  original.  Rembrandt  counted 
his  florins,  tranquilly  resumed  his  pencil,  and  recom- 
menced his  accustomed  life.  He  worked  unremittingly, 
and  painted  a  great  number  of  historical  pieces,  interior 
scenes  and  portraits.  Among  the  first  is  a  Tobias,  an 
admirable  composition,  in  which  all  the  heads  appear  to 
live  and  speak,  and  where  there  is  nothing  to  be  desired 
in  arrangement,  color,  and  finish. 

Rembrandt  succeeded  astonishingly  in  portraits.  It 
is  said  that  in  order  to  make  his  talent  in  this  style 
loiown,  he  painted  the  portrait  of  his  domestic,  and 
placed  it  at  the  window.  The  neighbors  were  at  first 
deceived  by  it,  and  saluted  the  old  lady,  who  did  not  an- 
swer. Astonished  at  such  impoliteness,  quite  unnatural 
to  the  curious  and  talkative  old  woman,  they  drew  nearer, 
and  recognized  their  error  with  bursts  of  laughter.  They 
told  of  it  to  all  who  would  listen,  and  soon  there  was  not 
a  person  in  the  Hague  who  had  not  seen  the  portrait 
painted  by  Master  Rembrandt.  The  nobles  and  richest 
people  had  their  portraits  taken  by  him,  and  nothing 
could  equal  the  expression,  the  truth,  and  the  life  he 
gave  them.  However,  he  had  the  fault  of  not  being 
willing  to  listen  to  any  suggestion  on  the  part  of  his 
patrons  ;  he  would  neither  flatter  or  make  them  younger, 
nor  would  he  allow  them  to  take  any  other  position  than 
he  chose.  He  was  the  master,  and  they  must  do  as  he 
said,  or  give  up  having  their  portraits  painted  by  him. 


PAINTERS.  277 

What  he  wished  was  not  always  convenient  or  agree- 
able :  for  example,  while  he  was  painting  the  picture  of 
a  family,  some  one  came  and  told  him  that  a  monkey, 
of  which  he  was  very  fond,  was  just  dying.  Rembrandt 
expressed  his  regrets,  and  continued  his  work;  but,  by 
an  odd  fancy,  he  painted  the  face  of  the  favorite  which 
he  had  just  lost  in  the  foreground  of  the  picture.  When 
the  persons  for  whom  he  had  commenced  painting  saw 
this  monkey's  head,  they  found  it  was  an  ill-timed  pleas- 
antry ;  but  it  was  quite  another  thing,  for  the  artist 
declared  that  he  wished  to  paint  this  souvenir  of  the 
animal  he  loved,  and  that  he  would  not  erase  it.  They 
were  angry ;  then,  somewhat  appeased,  they  begged 
him  to  take  away  that  grimacing  face.  Rembrandt 
would  hear  to  nothing  ;  he  preferred  keeping  the  picture, 
and  paying  back  that  which  he  had  received  in  advance 
for  it. 

His  pupils,  who  knew  so  well  to  what  point  the  artist 
carried  his  love  for  gold,  could  scarcely  believe  that  he 
would  make  such  a  sacrifice  to  the  memory  of  the  mon- 
key. They  had  often  amused  themselves  by  painting 
pieces  of  money  on  bits  of  paper,  which  they  threw  on 
the  floor,  and  which  Rembrandt  would  pick  up.  His 
avidity,  and  disappointment  on  recognizing  his  mistake, 
caused  bursts  of  laughter,  in  which  he  almost  always 
joined. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  my  children  ?  "  he  would 
say ;  "  the  times  are  hard,  and  there  is  not  the  smallest 


278  THE    PRINCES    OF   AKT. 

bit  of  money  which  will  not  help  carry  one  to  the  end 
of  the  year.  You  are  young  and  prodigal,  I  am  old 
and  economical ;  you  are  foolish,  and  I  am  wise." 

Thus  this  man,  who  lived  only  on  privations,  who 
refused  himself  not  only  the  pleasures  which  other  men 
seek,  but  also  the  happiness  of  ameliorating  the  suffer- 
ings of  his  fellow-creatures,  of  seeing  happiness  enter 
the  bosom  of  poor  families,  under  the  form  of  a  little  of 
that  gold  which  he  hid  away,  —  this  man  believed  him- 
self wise.  A  strange  effect  of  the  passions  which  take 
possession  of  our  hearts  :  they  obscure  our  intelligence, 
and  falsify  our  judgment. 

Rembrandt  died  in  1674,  at  the  age  of  sixty-eight 
years.  He  is  considered  as  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
artists.  He  received  from  Nature  a  remarkable  genius, 
which  labor  alone  developed,  since  he  studied  neither 
ancient  or  modern  masters.  He  is  particularly  distin- 
guished by  a  powerful  originality ;  he  never  imitated, 
and  none  of  tlue  painters  who  have  followed  have  been 
able  to  seize  his  manner.  Eembrandt  possessed  the 
knowledge  of  chiaro-scuro  to  an  eminent  degree;  he 
can  be  compared  only  to  Titian  for  the  freshness  and 
truth  of  his  complexions.  His  figures  appear  to  stand 
out  in  relief  from  the  picture ;  his  faces  are  varied ,  full 
of  naivete  and  expression  ;  his  old  men's  heads  are  par- 
ticularly good.  Looking  at  Rembrandt's  pictures  near, 
they  appear  carelessly  shaded  and  rough ;  but  seen  from 
a  distance,  they  are  all  harmony  and  smoothness.  The 


PAINTERS.  279 

groundwork  is  generally  black,  which  gives  a  wonderful 
effect.  If  the  beauty  of  type  and  the  purity  of  lines 
which  characterize  the  Italian  paintings  are  not  found  in 
his  compositions,  Nature  is  found  there,  given  with  so 
much  truth  and  liveliness  that  we  never  cease  to  admire 
them. 

Rembrandt  has  left  many  fine  landscapes,  some  draw- 
ings, not  perfectly  correct,  but  very  expressive,  and 
some  engravings,  which  are  much  esteemed  by  connois- 
seurs. The  most  celebrated  of  the  engravings  represents 
Christ  healing  the  sick.  It  is  known  by  the  name  of 
the  piece  of  one  hundred  francs,  because  each  proof 
was  sold  at  that  price  by  Rembrandt.  The  artist  had  a 
great  number  of  pupils,  among  whom  were  Flinck, 
Eckoutz,  and,  above  all,  Gerard  Dow,  whose  small 
pictures  are  marvels  of  grace,  freshness,  and  truth. 


LE  POUSSIN. 

Nicholas  Poussin  was  born  the  16th  of  June,  1594, 
at  the  Castle  of  Villiers,  near  Andelys.  His  father  was 
of  a  noble  family,  but  his  fortune  was  small,  and  he 
married  the  widow  of  an  attorney.  He  and  his  wife 
differed  in  their  ideas  of  the  education  of  their  children  : 
faithful  to  the  noble  recollections  of  his  race,  he  hoped 
to  make  a  valiant  warrior  of  his  son  Nicholas,  while  his 
wife  ardently  desired  that  he  should  join  the  clergy. 
Neither  father  nor  mother  had  their  wish. 


280  THE    PEINCES    OF   ART. 

Nicholas  early  manifested  much  taste  for  drawing; 
to  crayon  portraits,  to  paint  flowers,  trees,  birds,  had 
been  his  greatest  amusements.  Quentin  Varin,  a  painter 
of  some  celebrity  in  Normandy,  having  been  engaged  to 
restore  the  Castle  of  Yernon,  made  the  acquaintance  of 
the  father  of  Nicholas,  and,  having  seen  some  of  the 
child's  sketches,  he  recognized  such  a  gift  for  drawing 
that  he  wished  to  teach  him  the  first  principles.  The 
progress  of  his  pupil  so  entirely  surpassed  his  hopes, 
that  he  proposed  to  his  friend,  with  whose  precarious 
situation  he  was  acquainted,  to  make  a  painter  of  his 
son,  rather  than  a  soldier. 

M.  Poussin  reluctantly  yielded  to  this  advice ;  and 
Quentin  Yarin,  in  a  short  time,  was  obliged  to  declare 
that  he  could  teach  Nicholas  nothing  more.  Nicholas, 
who  was  then  eighteen  years  old,  bade  adieu  to  the 
castle  in  which  he  had  passed  his  childhood,  and  set  out 
for  Paris,  where  he  hoped  to  find  competent  teachers, 
and  to  make  a  fortune  speedily.  But  he  soon  found 
that  he  had  deluded  himself;  the  teachers  were  his  infe- 
riors, and  instead  of  a  fortune,  misery  stared  at  him. 
But  men  of  genius  are  not  cast  down  by  misfortune. 
Poussin  waited  hopefully. 

He  worked  with  a  brave  heart ;  and  when  he  went 
out  of  the  poor  room  which  served  him  for  a  studio,  it 
was  to  study  nature.  In  one  of  his  excursions  through 
the  country  he  met  a  young  gentleman,  with  whom  he 
entered  into  conversation ;  they  separated,  promising  to 


PAINTERS.  281 

meet  again,  and  in  a  few  days  they  loved  each  other  like 
brothers.  The  young  gentleman  being  called  to  Poitou 
by  his  family,  wished  Nicholas  to  accompany  him,  assur- 
ing him  that  his  mother  would  be  delighted  to  receive 
him,  and  happy  to  decorate  her  castle  with  some  of  his 
works.  Poussin  accepted  the  invitation  of  his  friend. 
However,  he  was  coldly,  and  almost  disdainfully,  re- 
ceived in  the  house  which  he  had  promised  himself  to 
consider  as  his  home ;  but  his  pride  equalling  his  talent, 
he  would  not  accept  such  hospitality.  He  was  inspired 
with  a  desire  to  see  Rome  by  the  sight  of  some  of  Raph- 
ael's and  Julio  Romano's  engravings.  He  resolved  to 
work  unremittingly,  in  order  to  amass  a  sufficiency  for 
the  expenses  of  the  voyage.  To  work  !  But  who  would 
give  him  work  ?  In  vain  he  knocked  at  the  doors  of 
castles  and  convents ;  he  looked  so  poor  that  no  one 
could  conceive  of  his  merit,  and  everybody  turned  him 
off:  as  a  last  resource,  he  commenced  sign-painting. 

This  did  not  pay  well,  even  if  he  could  get  enough 
of  it. 

Poussin  suffered  all  sorts  of  privations,  and,  not 
knowing  what  to  do  to  earn  his  own  living,  he  sold 
himself  to  some  recruiters  ;  but  fasting  had  rendered  him 
so  feeble  that  he  was  considered  unfit  for  military  ser- 
vice. Again  he  took  courage,  and,  despite  his  bad 
luck,  felicitating  himself  upon  the  recovery  of  his  liberty 
and  his  pencil,  he  sought  work  so  persistently  that  he 
at  length  found  it.  Although  his  wages  were  very 


282  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

small,  he  put  aside  a  part  every  day ;  for  he  had  not 
given  up  the  idea  of  seeing  the  chefs-d'oeuvre  of  Italy. 
His  little  treasure  increased,  and  he  was  already  plan- 
ning for  his  journey,  when,  one  fine  morning,  he  discov- 
ered that  the  purse,  on  which  he  founded  all  his  hopes, 
had  been  stolen. 

It  was  useless  to  be  discouraged ;  it  was  better  to  try 
to  forget  this  misfortune,  and  begin  again  to  work,  and 
to  economize.  Poussin  thought  so,  and  went  back  to 
Paris,  which  he  had  left  to  draw  nearer  to  Italy,  painting 
in  every  town  through  which  he  passed.  He  was  then 
poor  and  unknown,  when,  in  1632,  the  Jesuits  cele- 
brated the  canonization  of  St.  Ignatius  and  St.  Francis 
Xavier.  The  pupils  of  the  fathers  wished  to  present  the 
church  of  their  college  with  several  pictures,  represent- 
ing the  miracles  of  these  two  saints ;  and  a  great  num- 
ber among  them  being  acquainted  with  Nicholas,  offered 
him  the  charge  of  painting  the  pictures,  which  he  thank- 
fully accepted.  In  six  days  Poussin  painted  six  pic- 
tures, in  distemper,  which  were  much  admired,  by 
amateurs,  for  their  boldness.  Among  the  amateurs 
was  the  Cavalier  Marin,  an  Italian  poet,  who,  ready  to 
return  to  Italy,  offered  to  take  the  young  painter  with 
him.  Nicholas  would  gladly  have  accepted  this  offer ; 
but  he  had  promised  many  works,  and,  wishing  to  keep 
his  word,  he  remained. 

As  soon  as  he  had  finished  the  pictures  he  had  engaged 
to  paint,  he  set  out  for  Italy.  He  was  not  very  rich  ; 


PAINTERS.  283 

but  by  working  a  little  on  the  way,  he  arrived  at  Rome, 
without  having  entirely  exhausted  the  sums  received  for 
his  last  pictures.  He  found  the  Cavalier  Marin,  who 
cordially  received  him,  recommended  him  to  Cardinal 
Barberini,  and  advised  him  to  study  not  only  the  chefs- 
d'oeuvre  of  paintings,  but  the  ancient  and  modern  poets, 
and  the  lives  of  the  great  men.  Poussin  felt  that  he 
should  find  noble  inspirations  in  these  readings,  and  fol- 
lowed the  advice  of  his  protector.  Unhappily  for  him, 
the  poet  died  soon  after  his  arrival  in  Rome,  and  Cardi- 
nal Barberini  went  to  France. 

Poussin,  left  without  friends  and  without  support, 
was  reduced  to  such  straitened  circumstances  that  he 
turned  his  attention  to  architecture,  sculpture,  and  all 
kinds  of  painting,  to  obtain  a  livelihood.  Painting  was 
then  beginning  to  decline  in  the  city  of  the  fine  arts. 
The  manner  of  Michael  Angelo  Caravaggio  was  substi- 
tuted for  the  sublime  style  of  Raphael ;  and  the  first 
pictures  which  Poussin  brought  forward  caused  him  to 
be  recognized  as  an  opponent  to  the  new  method,  of 
which  many  amateurs  had  declared  themselves  partisans  : 
these  pictures  were  not  well  received.  Poussin,  seeing 
the  hope  which  he  had  of  gaining  a  name  as  soon  as  he 
became  acquainted  with  artists  and  connoisseurs,  vanish, 
experienced  the  most  cruel  torments  which  can  be  in- 
flicted on  a  man  of  genius ;  he  doubted  himself,  and 
questioned  whether  he  should  still  continue  to  struggle, 
or  abandon  his  pencil  forever. 


284  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

At  this  time  he  became  acquainted  with  a  French 
painter  named  Dughet,  who  enjoyed  considerable  repu- 
tation in  Rome.  This  painter  had  a  daughter,  beautiful 
and  good,  and  very  courageous  ;  she  appreciated  Pous- 
sin's  talent,  sustained  and  consoled,  and,  having  married 
him,  made  him  conscious  of  his  own  merit.  Nicholas 
went  to  work  with  renewed  energy,  and  perseveringly 
combated  the  enemies  of  good  taste.  Many  chefs- 
d'oeuvre  from  his  pencil  pleaded  the  cause  of  art:  the 
Death  of  Germanicus,  the  Taking  of  Jerusalem  by 
Titus,  the  Pest  of  the  Philistines,  Eliezer  before  He- 
bekah,  the  Will  of  JEudamidas,  the  Rape  of  the 
jSabines,  JZsther  fainting  before  Ahasuerus,  Moses 
trampling  Pharaoh's  Crown  under  foot,  and  the 
Triumph  of  Neptune . 

The  Count  Cassiano,  of  Pozzo,  having  engaged  him 
to  paint  the  Seven  /Sacraments,  was  so  much  pleased 
with  the  manner  in  which  Poussin  treated  the  subject  that 
he  vowed  eternal  friendship,  introduced  him  to  nobles 
with  whom  he  was  acquainted,  and  granted  a  favor 
more  precious  still  —  the  use  of  his  cabinet  of  antiques. 
It  was  from  the  study  of  the  chefs-d'oeuvre  of  antiquity 
that  Poussin  drew  that  beau-ideal,  which,  characterizing 
his  smallest  works,  seems  to  make  Raphael  live  again 
in  him. 

Cardinal  Richelieu  ordered  pictures  for  his  palace 
from  Poussin ;  the  compositions  of  the  French  artist 
were  received  with  enthusiasm  in  France,  and  inspired 


PAINTERS.  285 

the  cardinal  with  the  desire  of  bringing  back  to  his  na- 
tive country  this  genius,  of  which  Rome  was  beginning 
to  be  proud.  Poussin  received  the  brevet  of  first  painter 
to  the  king,  and  an  invitation  to  go  to  Paris  to  decorate 
the  grand  gallery  of  the  Louvre.  Poussin  hesitated 
about  leaving  his  dear  retreat  to  take  possession  of  the 
dignities  which  were  offered  him.  Louis  XIII.  wrote  a 
most  flattering  letter ^o  persuade  him  to  come,  and  M. 
de  Chanteloup,  who  was  then  at  Rome,  urged  the  great 
painter  so  strongly  to  accompany  him  to  France,  that 
he  consented  to  go  at  the  end  of  the  year  1640. 

Louis  XIII.,  forewarned  of  his  arrival,  sent  one  of 
his  carriages,  gave  him  the  most  gracious  reception,  and 
an  apartment  in  the  Tuilleries.  The  painter  paid  hom- 
age to  the  king  by  his  beautiful  picture,  the  Will  of 
Eudamides,  which  is  now  in  the  Museum  at  Rouen, 
and  was  gratified  with  a  pension  of  three  thousand 
francs.  Cardinal  Richelieu  was  no  less  friendly  to  the 
artist.  But  Poussin,  like  other  superior  men,  could 
not  escape  envy.  Jacques  de  Fouquers,  a  Flemish 
painter,  who  was  protected  by  the  queen,  had  been 
promised  the  decoration  of  the  Louvre  :  he  was  displeased 
with  the  new  comer,  who  was,  he  thought,  encroach- 
ing upon  what  he  called  his  rights,  which  he  resolved 
to  claim.  Lemercier,  the  first  architect  of  the  king, 
showed  himself  equally  hostile  to  Poussin,  because  he  had 
found  it  necessary  to  change  the  compartments  of  the 
arched  roof,  which  were  too  massive  for  his  designs. 


286  THE    PRINCES   OF   ART. 

Simon  Vouet,  a  painter  of  note,  to  whom  the  French 
school  was  indebted  for  its  first  glory,  was  jealous  of 
Poussin's  success,  which  seemed  to  place  him  in  the 
second  rank  of  painters.  Vouet's  pupils  took  part  with 
him,  and  Poussin,  who  valued  nothing  so  much,  after 
painting,  as  the  quiet  of  a  peaceful  life,  exempt  from 
trouble  and  intrigue,  soon  regretted  the  happy  days 
which  he  had  passed  at  Rome. 

On  the  other  hand,  he  was  continually  interrupted  in 
his  painting,  and  occupied  with  details  relative  to  the 
decoration  of  the  Louvre,  too  insignificant  for  him. 
However,  he  finished  the  Supper -,  and  the  Miracle  of 
St.  Francis  Xavier;  but  tired  of  perplexities  and  an- 
noyances to  which  he  was  continually  subject,  he  solicit- 
ed permission  to  return  to  Rome,  under  pretext  of  ar- 
ranging his  affairs,  and  persuading  his  wife  to  take  up 
her  abode  in  France.  Permission  being  granted,  he 
hastened  to  depart.  One  thing,  however,  troubled  him  ; 
he  had  promised  the  king  and  the  cardinal  that  he  would 
return ;  but  as  he  did  not  hurry  himself  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  his  affairs,  he  heard  of  the  death  of  Richelieu, 
and  soon  after  of  that  of  Louis  XIII.  Thus  freed  from 
his  obligations,  he  determined  not  to  leave  Rome,  the 
country  of  his  adoption  and  the  cradle  of  his  glory. 

He  continued  to  enjoy  the  title  of  first  painter  to  the 
king,  under  Louis  XIV.,  and  he  justified  this  title  by 
the  advice  which  he  gave  to  young  French  artists,  who 
came  to  Rome  to  perfect  themselves,  and  by  the  excellent 


PAINTERS.  287 

models  which  he  sent  to  France.  The  fine  genius  of 
Poussin  developed  itself  in  proportion  as  he  advanced 
in  his  career.  His  first  works  were  a  little  hard  and 
dry,  but  he  corrected  these  faults,  and  chose  those  sub- 
jects in  which  Nature  displayed  her  beauties.  With- 
out losing  the  elevated  taste  which  the  study  of  the 
antique  had  given  him,  he  put  a  grace,  a  charm,  a  cer- 
tain melancholy  poetry  into  his  compositions,  which 
touch  the  heart,  and  awaken  meditation,  — Eurydice 
stung  by  a  Serpent,  while  Orpheus,  near  her,  is  sing- 
ing the  Praises  of  the  Gods,  the  Remains  of  Phocion 
expelled  from  A.ttica,  Diogenes  breaking  his  Cup,  the 
Feasts  of  Ceres  and  of  Bacchus,  Boaz  and  Ruth,  ad- 
mirable pictures,  which  added  to  Poussin's  glory,  were 
painted  immediately  after  his  return  to  Rome. 

This  artist  never  became  rich,  like  many  other  cel- 
ebrated painters  whose  history  we  have  written.  He 
was  very  simple  in  his  tastes,  and  preferred  easy  circum- 
stances to  a  great  fortune.  He  lived  in  a  modest  re- 
treat, which  was  embellished  by  the  tender  cares  of  his 
wife,  and  the  visits  of  sincere  friends,  whose  conversa- 
tion was  his  relaxation  from  labor ;  and  when  obliged  to 
mingle  in  society,  he  felt  ill  at  ease,  and  gladly  returned 
to  his  pleasant  retirement.  The  superfluities  of  a  pom- 
pous life  had  no  value  in  his  eyes  :  he  worked  for  glory, 
and  not  for  money.  He  was  accustomed  to  write  on 
the  back  of  a  picture  the  va'lue  at  which  he  estimated  it, 
and  regularly  sent  back  all  that  was  offered  over  and 
above  his  price. 


288  THE   PKINCES   OF   ART. 

Potissin  loved  his  art  so  much  that,  although  he  was 
considered  the  first  painter  of  the  age,  he  continued  to 
study  Nature ;  and  when  he  left  his  studio,  he  went  into 
the  country  to  find  some  charming  site,  some  smiling 
landscape,  with  which  to  ornament  the  groundwork  of 
a  picture.  Very  often  he  brought  home  stones,  mosses, 
grass,  branches  of  trees,  &c,  which  he  had  collected  in 
these  excursions,  because  he  thought  that  a  painter  could 
not  be  too  careful  in  the  truthful  rendering  of  the 
smallest  details. 

Poussin  worked  too  assiduously :  his  health  was  im- 
paired, and  an  attack  of  paralysis  warned  him  that  the 
end  of  his  career  was  approaching.  After  this  he  fin- 
ished his  fine  picture  of  the  Samaritan,  which  he  sent 
to  M.  de  Chanteloup,  to  whom  he  was  tenderly  attached. 
In  the  letter  which  accompanied  the  picture,  the  painter 
spoke  of  his  approaching  end,  and  told  his  friend  that, 
without  doubt,  the  picture  would  be  the  last  which  he 
should  have  the  pleasure  of  painting  for  him.  He 
worked  only  a  few  hours  a  day,  for  his  hand  soon  tiring, 
no  longer  obeyed  his  inspirations ;  which,  however,  re- 
mained as  vivid  and  as  luminous  as  in  the  prime  of 
his  youth.  The  death  of  his  amiable  and  beloved  com- 
panion was  a  terrible  blow,  which  he  bore  with  resigna- 
tion, in  the  hope  of  soon  meeting  her  in  another  world. 
Work  was  a  great  assistance  to  him ;  and  suffering  as 
he  was,  he  finished  the  Four  Seasons,  which  he  had 
sketched  during  his  sickness. 


PAINTERS.  289 

While  thus  occupied,  Poussin  seemed  to  regain  new 
life,  and  the  four  pictures  finished,  he,  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  last  rays  of  the  nearly  extinguished  lamp, 
undertook  the  Deluge,  a  sublime  composition,  in  which 
he  surpassed  all  that  he  had  previously  done.  This  last 
was  his  monument  of  glory.  The  Deluge  was  hardly 
finished,  when  a  new  attack  of  paralysis  deprived  the 
illustrious  artist  of  the  use  of  both  hands.  He  languished 
for  some  time,  awaiting  his  last  hour  with  calmness 
and  in  Christian  faith,  and  consoling  his  relations  and 
friends  for  the  loss  they  were  about  to  sustain.  He 
died  a  few  days  before  he  had  attained  his  seventy- 
second  year,  and  the  news  of  his  death  cast  a  shadow 
of  grief  over  Rome,  where  he  was  tenderly  loved.  The 
luxury  and  pomp  which  would  have  been  so  contradic- 
tory to  the  simplicity  of  his  life,  were  not  displayed  at 
his  funeral,  but  the  whole  population  honored  him  with 
regrets. 

Poussin,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  painters  of 
Europe,  was  the  greatest  which  France  has  produced. 
No  master  had  the  glory  of  teaching  him,  and  he  left  no 
pupils.  A  composition,  rich  and  learned  at  the  same 
time,  correct  drawing,  ingenuous  ideas,  an  elevated  and 
powerful  style,  a  good  tone  of  color,  well-chosen  sites, 
sweetness  and  poetry,  distinguished  the  works  of  this 
illustrious  man.  His  genius  was  aided  by  patient 
study  ;  geometry,  perspective,  architecture,  anatomy, 
occupied  him  in  turn  ;  then  history,  poetry,  the  study 
19 

"^ 


o» 

UFI7BESIT] 


290  THE    PRINCES   OF   ART. 

of  the  antiques,  and  the  contemplation  of  nature,  filled 
all  the  time  not  absolutely  employed  in  the  culture  of 
his  art. 

He  was  equally  successful  in  history,  landscapes, 
mythology,  and  religious  paintings.  He  modelled  stat- 
uettes and  bas-reliefs,  and  if  he  had  applied  himself  to 
sculpture,  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  would  have  succeed- 
ed as  well  as  in  painting.  Connoisseurs  think  that  his 
taste  for  the  antique  carried  him  too  far,  and  imagine 
they  recognize  some  of  the  statues,  which  served  him  as 
models,  in  his  pictures  ;  they  also  think  that  he  put  too 
many  folds  in  his  draperies,  and  had  not  a  sufficient 
variety  of  positions  for  his  heads ;  but  such  defects,  if 
they  really  exist,  do  not  prevent  the  name  of  Poussin 
from  shining  among  the  most  illustrious  names  in  the 
history  of  art. 

This  modest  and  disinterested  artist  was  not  less  dis- 
tinguished by  his  virtues  than  by  his  talents.  Upright, 
generous,  a  friend  of  justice  and  of  truth,  he  never 
courted  the  favor  of  the  great,  nor  humiliated  himself 
by  honoring  their  qualities,  much  less  by  flattering  their 
vices.  He  preferred  family  joys  and  the  pleasures  of 
industry  to  the  intrigues  of  court.  Although  he  lived 
modestly,  his  house  was  the  rendezvous  of  artists,  and 
persons  in  the  highest  stations  of  life  were  pleased  to 
visit  and  converse  with  Poussin,  who  was  not  only  an 
honest  man,  in  all  the  acceptation  of  the  word,  and  an 
eminent  painter,  but  an  amiable  and  witty  savant. 


PAINTERS.  291 

One  evening  Cardinal  Mancini  came  to  see  him.  The 
conversation  was  prolonged  to  a  late  hour.  Poussin  was 
working,  and  the  cardinal  could  but  admire  the  wonder- 
ful facility  with  which  he  conversed  while  his  pencil 
continued  to  move.  Finally  the  prelate  bade  adieu  to 
the  artist,  who  took  the  lamp,  and  reconducted  his  noble 
visitor.  The  cardinal,  confused  at  having  given  so 
much  trouble,  asked  pardon,  and  said,  — 

"Truly,  M.  Poussin,  you  are  to  be  pitied  that  you 
have  no  valet." 

"And  I,  my  lord,"  replied  the  painter,  "I  pity  you, 
with  all  my  heart,  that  you  have  so  many." 

Rome  possesses  very  fine  works  of  Poussin,  but  the 
greater  number  are  in  France.  The  great  man  left  no 
posterity :  he  adopted  the  young  brother  of  his  wife, 
Guaspre  Dughet,  whom  he  treated  as  a  son.  Dughet 
is  sometimes  called  Poussin :  he  inherited  some  of  the 
talent  of  his  brother-in-law  for  landscape.  A  delicate 
and  spirited  touch,  a  perfect  knowledge  of  perspective, 
coloring  full  of  freshness  and  truth,  an  uncommon  ability 
to  represent  storms,  the  appearance  of  motion  of  trees, 
and  well-chosen  sites,  render  his  pictures  valuable. 
We  are  assured  that  many  of  the  figures  which  animate 
his  landscapes  are  from  the  hand  of  Poussin. 


292  THE   PKINCES   OF  AKT. 


CLAUDE  LOEKAIN. 

Claude  Gele*e,  better  known  as  Claude  le  Lorrain, 
was  born  in  the  diocese  of  Toul,  in  the  year  1600. 
Though  his  parents  could  scarcely  support  themselves 
by  their  labor,  they  wished  to  have  their  son  educated, 
and  sent  him  to  school  when  quite  young ;  but  Claude, 
notwithstanding  all  the  attention  he  paid  to  the  lessons 
of  his  teacher,  made  so  little  progress  that  his  father 
was  discouraged  in  thinking  to  make  something  of  his 
child  superior  to  a  poor  hireling  like  himself.  He  then 
thought  he  would  give  him  some  calling,  and  put  him, 
at  ten  years  of  age,  as  apprentice  to  a  pastry-cook,  who 
tried  to  teach  him  to  mix  a  sauce  and  prepare  a  hash. 

Claude  was  no  happier  there  than  he  had  been  at 
school ;  he  had  no  memory ;  it  often  happened  that  he 
did  entirely  the  contrary  to  what  he  had  been  told,  and 
his  blunders  often  caused  serious  losses  to  his  master,  for 
whidi  the  poor  child  had  to  pay  by  receiving  bad  treat- 
ment and  hard  words.  The  journeymen,  his  comrades, 
who  thought  him  an  idiot,  fit  only  to  amuse  them,  made 
fun  of  him.  Claude  bore  it  all  with  patience  and  ex- 
treme sweetness,  or  rather  he  appeared  not  to  perceive 
that  he  was  the  object  of  their  raillery,  for  his  face  was 
always  calm  and  smiling. 

However,  he  was  not  at  all  satisfied  at  the  pastry- 
cook's, but  his  apprenticeship  was  to  last  three  years ; 


PAINTERS.  293 

the  contract  had  been  made,  and  there  were  no  means  of 
breaking  it.  As  he  could  neither  season  a  ragout,  take 
charge  of  a  roast,  heat  an  oven,  make  pastry,  or  an- 
swer a  customer,  the  cook,  not  knowing  how  to  employ 
him,  sent  him  on  errands,  to  carry  articles  which  had 
been  ordered,  into  the  city. 

Claude  had  a  little  more  liberty  in  this  way,  and  less 
regret  that  he  had  no  inclination  to  learn  the  culinary 
art.  He  had  no  wish  to  play  with  children  of  his  age ; 
besides,  his  little  companions  played  him  so  many  bad 
tricks,  which  they  called  fun,  that  he  was  much  happier 
alone  than  in  their  society.  But  in  his  walks  through 
the  city  he  had  found  a  pleasant  amusement ;  he  stopped 
at  the  second-hand  shops,  and  was  very  happy  when  he 
saw  some  pictures  in  the  midst  of  cast  off  clothing  and 
old  furniture.  If  by  chance  he  found  some  landscape, 
lighted  by  the  sun's  rays  among  these  pictures,  which 
were  generally  very  ordinary,  it  was  a  perfect  feast  for 
the  poor  little  pastry-cook  :  he  forgot  himself  while  stop- 
ping to  admire,  and  returned  home  later  than  usual,  at 
the  risk  of  receiving  a  severe  reprimand. 

One  day,  when  he  had  a  superb  dessert  to  carry  to  one 
of  the  richest  houses  in  the  city,  he  saw  two  new  pic- 
tures, which  appeared  to  him  very  beautiful,  on  the  stall 
of  one  of  the  second-hand  shops.  He  thought  to  go 
past  and  stop  on  his  way  back,  because  he  had  been 
told  to  deliver  the  pastry  quickly ;  but  the  temptation 
was  stronger  than  his  courage  ;  he  stopped,  saying,  — 


294  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

"  A  few  moments  will  detract  nothing  from  the  Duality 
of  the  dessert ;  besides,  I  can  walk  quick  enough  to  make 
up  for  stopping." 

Claude  had  kept  the  basketful  upon  his  head,  but  as 
it  troubled  him  to  look  at  the  pictures  which  pleased 
him  very  much,  he  put  the  basket  on  a  post  near  him. 
He  meant  to  remain  only  five  minutes,  but  not  until 
standing  there  a  full  half  hour  did  he  think  of  his  mas- 
ter's orders.  What  were  his  surprise  and  grief,  the 
pasfry  and  basket  had  both  disappeared  !  Claude  knew 
that  he  had  done  wrong,  and  wept  bitterly  :  but  his  tears 
availed  nothing,  and  he  returned  to  his  master  in  de- 
spair. 

What  excuse  could  he  make?  For  an  instant  he 
thought  of  saying  that  thieves  had  stolen  his  basket,  and 
beaten  him ;  but  as  he  had  never  told  a  lie,  he  felt 
ashamed  to  make  that  excuse,  and  simply  told  the  truth. 
The  pastry-cook  was  furious  :  he  had  taken  extra  pains 
in  preparing  that  dessert,  for  which  he  expected  to  be 
highly  complimented  ;  therefore  the  disobedience  of  his 
apprentice  caused  more  loss  than  that  of  the  money. 
He  could  have  forgiven  him,  perhaps,  if  it  had  been  in 
his  power  to  make  good  the  loss,  but  the  time  failed,  and 
Claude  was  driven  from  the  house. 

He  packed  his  few  clothes  in  sadness,  and  went  away, 
knowing  no  more  of  pastry-cooking  than  he  did  when 
he  entered.  The  little  success  he  had  had,  did  not  en- 
courage him  to  follow  the  profession  which  his  parents 


PAINTERS.  295 

wished  to  give  him,  and  he  could  think  of  no  other 
which  pleased  him  better.  He  was  then  only  thirteen 
years  old  ;  but  he  was  large  and  strong,  and  resolved  to 
seek  a  situation  as  a  domestic.  Claude  was  honesty  it- 
self, and  that  was  the  reason  why  the  pastry-cook  had 
so  long  borne  with  his  awkwardness  :  his  new  masters 
soon  discovered  his  honesty,  but  sooner  his  awkwardness 
and  absence  of  mind ;  for  he  had  not  the  cunning  to 
dissimulate  his  faults,  or  to  flatter  those  who  could  help 
him  in  getting  excused. 

He  was  turned  away  ;  and  the  poor  child,  not  knowing 
what  to  do  to  earn  his  living,  joined  a  party  of  young 
people,  who  were  going  to  Italy  to  seek  their  fortune. 
They  lived  on  the  way  by  begging,  and  sometimes  ma- 
rauding ;  but  this  vagabond  life~did  not  please  Claude, 
and  when  they  arrived  at  Genoa,  he  separated  from  his 
companions,  saying  he  would  look  for  work  in  that  city. 

By  good  luck  he  engaged  himself  to  Augusto  Tassi, 
a  painter  of  some  talent.  The  misfortunes  of  Claude 
had  not  rendered  him  more  active  or  more  skilful,-  but 
Augusto,  appreciating  his  sweetness  of  temper  and  his 
good  will,  was  indulgent  to  him.  The  young  man, 
touched  with  this  kindness,  attached  himself  sincerely  to 
the  artist,  who,  on  his  part  became  attached  to  him. 

Tassi,  observing  that  Claude  paid  extreme  attention 
to  his  painting  while  arranging  and  cleaning  the  studio, 
one  day  proposed,  laughing,  to  teach  him  the  principles 
of  his  art.  Claude  said  he  should  be  glad  to  paint  some 


296  THE    PKINCES    OF   ART. 

nice  pieces  like  his  master,  but  he  said  it  without  any 
enthusiasm.  The  painter,  for  amusement's  sake,  put  a 
pencil  into  the  young  man's  hand,  and  showed  him  how 
to  use  it. 

At  first  Claude's  intelligence  was  as  rebellious  to  the 
painter's  instructions  as  it  had  been  to  that  of  the 
schoolmaster  and  the  pastry-cook;  but  without  being 
discouraged,  every  day,  at  the  appointed  hour,  he  went 
to  the  painter,  humbly  begging  him  to  guide  him  in  his 
efforts. 

At  length  a  ray  of  light  seemed  to  pierce  the  thick 
darkness :  Lorrain  understood  what  had  hitherto  been 
uselessly  explained,  and  seized  by  a  love  for  study,  as 
much  more  ardent  as  his  ignorance  was  profound,  he 
did  not  allow  himself  an  instant  of  repose.  He  be- 
came, as  if  by  enchantment,  as  active  and  able  as  he  had 
heretofore  been  the  reverse  :  he  performed  his  duties,  as 
a  servant  in  a  few  hours,  and  went  to  the  studio,  where 
after  having  prepared  the  pallet,  or  ground  the  colors, 
for  his  employer,  he  set  himself  to  work,  and  did  not 
leave  until  called  away.  In  the  evening,  when  he  went 
to  his  little  room,  he  took  either  his  books  or  his  pencils, 
and  gave  to  sleep  only  the  time  absolutely  necessary  for 
the  preservation  of  his  health. 

Very  soon  he  manipulated  so  well  that  Tassi  not  only 
had  no  fear  about  his  learning,  but  understood  that  he 
would  some  day  surpass  him.  Nature  had  enclosed  the 
genius  of  Claude  in  a  rude  and  shapeless  envelope,  as  she 


PAINTERS.  297 

conceals  a  diamond  in  rocks  or  clay :  the  envelope  was 
broken,  and  the  precious  stone  was  about  to  shine  forth 
in  all  its  brilliancy. 

But  Lorrain  was  not  to  be  an  artist  like  those  of 
which  Italy  had  produced  so  many.  His  pencil  was  not 
to  produce  great  historical  scenes,  nor  mythological  com- 
positions, nor  religious  subjects,  with  their  soft  poetry, 
but  representations  of  the  wild  or  graceful  sights  which 
met  his  view  :  it  was  the  prairie  enamelled  with  flowers, 
the  brook  running  under  the  foliage,  the  torrent  bound- 
ing in  foam  upon  the  rocks,  the  threatening  shadows  of 
great  woods,  the  village  situated  upon  the  declivity  of  a 
verdant  hill,  the  moon  shedding  her  sweet  light  upon 
the  sleeping  landscape,  or  the  sun  pouring  a  flood  of 
warm  rays  upon  blooming  nature. 

The  first  time  that  Claude  saw  one  of  those  sites, 
which  he  daily  admired,  come  out  from  his  canvas,  he 
was  filled  with  rapture ;  and  when  he  heard  his  master 
say  that  he  would  not  disown  the  picture,  he  was  still 
more  delighted,  for  he  had  often  been  jeered  at,  and  dis- 
trusted himself.  Claude  could  not  be  a  pastry-cook,  or 
a  domestic  :  he  was  a  painter. 

Augusto  Tassi  had  done  much  for  Lorrain,  as  ex- 
cept for  his  kindness,  perhaps  the  genius  of  his  poor 
servant  would  never  have  been  roused ;  but  up  to  the 
time  of  which  we  are  speaking,  Claude's  only  teacher 
was  Nature.  He  studied  with  a  patience  and  love,  of 
which  it  is  difficult  to  form  an  idea.  Rising  before  day, 


298  THE   PKINCES   OF  ART. 

he  watched  the  first  caresses  of  the  vivifying  sun  as  it 
drank  up  its  mantle  of  dew,  and  compared  the  different 
appearances  which  the  landscape  takes  at  different  hours 
of  the  day.  This  was  no  more  the  young  man  of  sweet 
and  honest  face,  but  unintelligent  and  distracted,  whom 
Augusto  had  taken  as  servant  out  of  pity ;  it  was  an 
artist  from  whom  nothing  escaped,  and  who  knew  how 
to  make  his  brush  express  all  he  had  remarked. 

However,  whether  the  distrust  which  he  had  of 
himself  remained,  or  whether  he  had  some  real  diffi- 
culty, Claude  worked  slowly  and  hesitatingly  :  he  often 
painted  and  rased  the  branch  of  a  tree,  or  a  stone 
during  a  whole  day :  sometimes  after  working  an  en- 
tire week,  his  picture  had  not  in  the  least  advanced  ;  but 
when  it  was  once  finished,  it  was  a  jewel  worthy  of 
being  offered  to  the  greatest  kings. 

This  artist  was  in  the  habit  of  softening  his  touches, 
and  mixing  them  in  a  sort  of  varnish,  which  covered  all 
his  picture.  No  painter  understood  aerial  prospective 
better  than  he,  nor  has  any  one  made  fresher  tints,  or 
succeeded  in  rendering  the  soft  morning  light,  the  ar- 
dent midday  heat,  or  the  gentle  evening  zephyrs,  more 
charmingly  or  more  truly.  So  Claude  Lorrain  is  con- 
sidered the  best  landscape  painter  in  the  world. 

His  reputation  grew  rapidly ;  a  great  number  of  young 
people  vied  with  each  other  for  the  honor  of  becoming 
his  pupils.  His  change  in  position  did  not  make  him 
forget  the  misery  and  humiliation  of  his  youthful  days, 


PAINTERS.  299 

nor  the  gratitude  which  he  owed  his  benefactor.  His 
pictures  were  sought  for  by  all  amateurs,  and  brought 
high  prices  ;  and  if  he  did  not  become  immensely  rich, 
it  was  because  the  recollection  of  the  privations  which  he 
had  endured,  and  seen  his  family  endure,  rendered  him 
humane  and  generous.  He  never  saw  an  old  man  or  a 
child  asking  alms  without  shedding  tears,  and  pouring 
the  contents  of  his  purse,  however  well  filled,  into  their 
hands. 

Honest,  industrious,  obliging,  full  of  sweetness  and 
kindness,  he  was  endeared  to  his  pupils,  esteemed  and 
beloved  by  everybody.  He  often  spoke  of  his  sad  child- 
hood, of  his  being  continually  repelled,  of  his  ignorant 
and  timid  youth,  without  affectation,  as  well  as  without 
shame ;  and  no  person  knew  how  to  encourage  artists 
better  than  he. 

Claude  Lorrain  died  at  Rome,  at  the  age  of  eighty- 
two  years,  without  having  laid  aside  his  pencil ;  and  his 
last  works  are  no  less  remarkable  than  his  first.  Be- 
sides landscapes,  this  artist  painted  marine  views  very 
finely ;  but  he  never  succeeded  in  figures.  He  said  to 
his  friends,  "I  sell  the  landscape,  and  give  the  figures 
into  the  bargain." 

A  great  number  of  those  which  animate  his  pictures 
are  due  to  the  pencil  of  Philip  Lauri  de  Courtois,  or 
some  other  of  his  pupils.  Lorrain  was  too  superior  a 
man  not  to  render  to  his  disciples  the  justice  due  them, 
and  he  had  no  fear  in  confiding  to  their  care  the  finish- 


300  THE  PKINCES   OF  ART. 

ing  of  his  admirable  pictures.  Claude  was  also  an  ex- 
cellent engraver :  he  has  engraved  many  pieces  which 
are  much  esteemed. 

The  life  of  this  celebrated  man  is  one  which  we  love 
to  put  before  the  eyes  of  the  young :  it  teaches  those 
whose  intelligence  is  not  active,  that  there  are  no  diffi- 
culties which  patience  and  perseverance  cannot  over- 
come, and  it  shows  those  who  are  highly  favored  by 
Nature,  that  they  should  never  make  sport  of  those  to 
whom  she  has  been  sparing  of  her  gifts. 


LE  SUEUK. 

Eustache  le  Sueur,  whose  name  is  placed  beside  that 
of  Poussin,  was  born  in  Paris,  in  1617.  He  passed  his 
childhood  in  the  studio  of  his  father,  who  was  a  sculptor, 
and  manifested  great  taste  for  modelling  and  drawing. 
Very  soon  he  left  the  clay  for  the  pencil ;  and  his  happy 
inclination  for  painting  strengthening  from  day  to  day, 
they  placed  him,  young  as  he  was,  under  the  care  of 
Simon  Youet,  who  was  then  enjoying  a  great  reputation, 
merited  by  real  talent,  and  which  was  undisputed  until 
Poussin  returned  to  France.  Simon  had  a  great  num- 
ber of  pupils  ;  but  Sueur  was  distinguished  among  them 
all,  as  much  by  the  progress  he  made  as  by  the  sweet- 
ness and  goodness  of  his  character.  He  learned  so  rap- 
idly of  Vouet,  that  in  a  few  years  he  excelled  his  teacher. 


PAINTERS.  301 

Some  chefs-d'oeuvre  of  the  great  masters  being  shown 
him,  he  studied  them  with  the  closest  attention,  recog- 
nized their  beauties,  and  endeavored  to  imitate  them. 
Then  he  ceased  copying  Simon  Vouet,  and  followed 
only  the  counsels  of  his  genius. 

He  had  scarcely  left  the  studio  of  his  master  when  he 
made  himself  known  through  eight  drawings  for  tapes- 
try, in  which  he  displayed  much  imagination,  taste,  and 
talent.  He  became  a  member  of  the  Academy  of  St. 
Luke,  for  which  he  painted  a  St.  Paul  curing  the 
/Sick,  which  produced  great  sensation.  Poussin,  who 
came  from  Italy  at  the  time,  saw  the  picture,  and  pre- 
dicted a  most  glorious  career  for  Sueur.  Poussin,  at- 
tracted by  the  sweet  and  noble  face  of  the  young  artist, 
by  his  distinguished  manners,  and  by  the  gratitude  with 
which  he  received  advice,  paid  particular  attention  to 
him  during  the  two  years  which  he  spent  in  France ; 
and  when,  overcome  by  ennui  and  chagrin,  he  returned 
to  Rome,  he  promised  Sueur  not  to  forget  him.  He 
kept  his  word,  sent  him  valuable  sketches  at  different 
times,  and  expressed  the  most  sincere  and  tender  interest 
in  the  letters  which  accompanied  them. 

Mutual  sympathy  attracted  these  two  men  to  each  other, 
whose  characters  had  several  points  of  resemblance. 
Sueur,  like  Poussin,  loved  work,  simplicity,  and  peace ; 
he  hated  intrigue,  and  disdained  to  answer  the  calumnies 
of  his  enemies.  He  was  married  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
five  :  he  would  have  been  happy  if  he  could  have  earned 


302  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

an  honorable  livelihood  for  his  family  by  works  worthy 
of  his  talent ;  but  he  had  powerful  rivals,  who  were  in 
vogue,  and,  not  being  able  to  obtain  orders  of  impor- 
tance, he  designed  frontispieces  of  books,  images  of  the 
Virgin,  and  other  current  works,  which  could  have  been 
done  as  well  by  ordinary  artists.  However,  he  did  not 
complain  :  he  waited  for  better  times. 

His  portraits  of  Louis  XIV.,  of  Cardinal  Mazarin, 
and  of  the  queen-mother,  gained  him  favor  at  court,  and 
Anne  of  Austria  named  him  her  painter.  Some  time 
after  this  promotion  he  was  engaged  to  represent  the 
life  of  St.  Bruno,  which  she  wished  to  present  to  the 
Carthusian  nuns  of  Paris. 

Sueur,  faithful  to  his  habit  of  studying  nature  thor- 
oughly, retired  to  the  convent,  in  order  to  study  the 
character  of  the  Carthusians,  and  make  his  work  truth- 
ful. He  succeeded  wonderfully  well ;  and  this  history 
of  the  holy  founder,  divided  into  twenty-two  pictures, 
in  which  the  serenity  of  soul  and  holy  quiet  become  the 
portion  of  those  who  renounce  the  world  to  follow  their 
divine  Master,  are  portrayed  with  an  ineffable  charm. 
These  pictures,  which  placed  Sueur  in  the  rank  of  the 
first  French  artists,  did  not  fail  to  excite  the  envy  of 
other  painters.  They  were  astonished  ;  they  were  irri- 
tated to  see  a  young  man  go  out  of  the  beaten  track, 
and  rush  into  an  abandoned  way,  with  no  other  guide 
than  the  luminous  train  left  by  the  incomparable  Raphael. 

Sueur  had  taken  Raphael  for  master  and  model :   his 


PAINTERS.  303 

pure  types,  beau-ideal,  rich  arrangement,  firm  and  soft 
touches,  had  attracted  the  young  painter,  and  he  became 
so  much  attached  to  the  manner  of  the  divine  artist, 
that,  although  he  had  never  seen  Italy,  he  could  have 
been  taken  for  one  of  Raphael's  best  pupils.  The  Sleep 
of  St.  Bruno,  his  Refusal  of  Episcopal  Dignity,  the  Death 
of  this  pious  founder  of  the  order  of  the  Carthusians, 
were,  and  deserved  to  be,  admired.  The  reputation  of 
Sueur  increased,  and  in  1649  he  was  engaged  to  paint 
the  picture  which  the  corps  of  jewellers  offered  to 
Notre  Dame  of  Paris  on  the  1st  of  May. 

Some  years  previous,  on  a  like  occasion,  Le  Brun 
had  painted  a  St.  Andrew,  then  a  St.  Stephen,  which 
were  much  praised  for  their  beauty.  Sueur  chose  for 
his  subject  St.  Paul  converting  the  Gentiles  at  Ephe- 
susy  and  his  picture  was  a  chef-d'oeuvre,  very  superior 
to  those  which  had  been  previously  painted.  He  re- 
ceived the  sum  of  four  hundred  francs  from  the  fraternity 
of  jewellers.  It  was  very  little  for  such  a  piece  of  work ; 
but  the  price  was  fixed,  and,  in  point  of  renown,  it  was 
a  great  advantage  to  Sueur.  The  Abbe  of  Marmon- 
tiers,  near  Tours,  desired  two  pictures  in  honor  of  St. 
Martin,  and  these  surpassed  $t.  Paid,  of  Notre  Dame. 
The  Condemnation  of  St.  Gervais  and  St.  Protais 
appeared  afterwards ;  and  this  picture  alone  suffices  to 
render  the  name  of  the  painter  glorious.  In  this  com- 
position Sueur  displayed  all  the  beauty  and  richness  of 
his  pencil,  and  all  the  elevation  of  his  soul  Angels  are 


304  THE   PEINCES   OF  ART. 

no  purer  or  more  beautiful  than  those  two  young  peo- 
ple :  as  they  appeared  before  their  judges,  their  foreheads 
seemed  illumined  by  a  ray  of  eternal  felicity.  This  pic- 
ture can  be  regarded  as  Sueur's  best,  and  one  of  the 
most  admirable  things  which  the  French  school  has 
ever  produced. 

Sueur  was  then  selected  to  decorate  the  mansion  of 
President  Thorigny,  since  called  the  Lambert  Mansion, 
and  he  rivalled  Le  Brun,  the  first  painter  of  the  king. 
Until  then  he  had  only  painted  church  pictures,  and 
Le  Brun  was  thought  to  be  unequalled  in  mythological 
painting.  This  master,  who  possessed  both  talent  and 
genius,  was  surprised  and  jealous  at  being  surpassed  by 
Sueur,  whose  grand  and  fruitful  imagination,  firm  and 
delicate  touch,  excited  the  admiration  of  the  numerous 
visitors  to  the  mansion.  Le  Brun  feared  that  the 
painter  would  take  advantage  of  this  circumstance  to 
recommend  himself  to  the  king ;  but  he  did  not  know 
Sueur,  who,  satisfied  with  the  glory  which  he  had 
acquired,  loved  his  independence  too  much,  and  was  too 
happy  in  the  modest  sufficiency  which  he  owed  to  his 
pencil,  to  desire  the  favors  of  the  court,  to  which  he 
knew  one  must  often  sacrifice  his  conscience,  and  always 
his  liberty. 

After  having  decorated  the  Thorigny  mansion,  Sueur 
returned  to  painting  religious  subjects,  which  he  pre- 
ferred to  all  others,  and  produced  a  great  number  of 
pictures  of  extraordinary  beauty.  Shut  up  in  his  studio, 


PAINTERS.  305 

and  assiduously  devoted  to  his  work,  he  turned  a  deaf 
ear  to  the  calumnies  with  which  his  rivals  attempted  to 
blacken  his  character,  and  answered  them  only  by  pro- 
ducing chef-d'oeuvre  after  chef-d'oeuvre.  Surrounded 
by  the  care  and  affections  of  the  woman  he  had  chosen, 
of  his  brother-in-law,  of  Peter,  Philip,  and  Anthony 
Sueur,  his  three  brothers,  who  worked  with  him,  and 
shared  his  joys  and  his  sorrows,  cherished  by  his  pupils, 
esteemed  by  all  who  knew  him,  Sueur  found  comfort 
and  consolation  in  their  esteem  and  tenderness.  Besides, 
he  hoped  that  calmness  and  disinterestedness  would  at 
length  impose  silence  upon  the  envious  :  he  was  deceived  : 
the  greater  he  showed  himself  the  more  his  enemies 
tried  to  injure  him. 

He  was  animated  for  the  contest,  besides  incited  by 
his  love  for  art,  and  the  firm  and  ardent  wish  to  perfect 
himself;  he  was  never  satisfied  with  his  work,  but  al- 
ways hoped  to  do  better,  and  those  who  loved  him  vainly 
begged  him  to  husband  his  strength,  which  his  great 
assiduity  to  labor  was  visibly  injuring.  Sustained  by 
his  courage,  Sueur  did  not  perceive  it;  besides,  his 
health  had  always  been  very  delicate,  and  he  paid  but 
little  attention  to  suffering,  to  which  he  was  accustomed. 
But  sorrow  finished  what  fatigue  had  commenced. 
Sueur  lost  his  wife,  his  brothers  married,  and  the  void 
caused  by  their  absence  plunged  him  into  profound 
melancholy.  His  enemies,  imagining  his  sufferings, 
formed  new  intrigues  against  him,  and  the  artist,  entirely 
20 


306  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

discouraged,  fell  into  a  state  of  languor,  which  he  judged 
to  be  mortal. 

He  died  at  Paris,  the  1st  of  May,  1655,  on  the  island 
of  Notre  Dame,  where  he  had  lived,  and  was  interred 
in  the  church  of  St.  Etienne-du-Mont. 

He  is  the  last  of  the  painters  of  the  French  school, 
who,  without  having  left  France,  had  the  talent  to  resist 
the  academic  rules  which  Youet  and  La  Hyre,  his  mas- 
ters, had  substituted  for  the  great  Italian  traditions,  and 
knew  how  to  preserve,  as  intact  as  possible,  that  eleva- 
tion of  sentiment  and  that  purity  of  execution  which  are 
the  appendages  of  great  schools. 


SALYATOR  EOSA. 

Salvator  Rosa,  painter,  musician,  and  poet,  was  born 
in  the  year  1615,  in  the  village  of  Arenella,  near  Na- 
ples. His  parents,  hoping  to  prepare  him  for  some 
useful  occupation,  placed  him  at  a  convent  school.  Sal- 
vator was  very  intelligent,  and  soon  gained  the  affection 
of  the  fathers,  whom  he  astonished  by  the  rapid  progress 
he  made  in  all  the  studies  they  gave  him.  As  he  grew 
older,  his  taste  for  study  seemed  to  diminish :  they  no 
longer  saw  him  with  his  books  in  his  hands,  while  his 
companions  gave  themselves  up  to  the  sports  of  their 
age ;  but  they  were  sure  to  find  him  cutting  figures  upon 
the  trees  in  the  garden  with  his  penknife,  or  tracing 


PAINTERS.  307 

drawings  in  the  sand- walks,  or  portraits,  with  charcoal, 
upon  the  walls. 

The  good  fathers  took  this  pastime  of  Salvator  for  a 
caprice,  which  they  supposed  would  not  last  long,  and 
contented  themselves  with  gently  begging  him  not  to 
neglect  his  lessons  :  the  child  promised  to  learn  them  as 
well  as  heretofore,  and  he  kept  his  word.  As  his  mem- 
ory was  prodigious,  he  required  but  a  few  moments  for 
study,  and  did  not  cease  drawing,  as  well  during  the 
hours  of  the  class  as  during  the  recreations. 

Antonio  Rosa  was  a  mason,  and  pretended  to  be  an 
architect;  his  wife  belonged  to  a  family  of  painters,  but 
ordinary  painters,  and  so  poor,  for  the  most  part,  that 
Antonio,  who  earned  scarcely  enough  to  carry  on  his 
own  business,  had  often  been  called  upon  to  assist  them. 
No  one  despised  painting  more  than  he  did  ;  therefore  he 
was  much  grieved  when  he  heard  that  Salvator,  in  whom 
he  had  such  great  hopes,  manifested  a  decided  taste  for 
the  profession  which  could  not  furnish  bread  to  his  uncles. 
He  recommended  the  fathers  to  punish  his  son  severely 
every  time  he  was  caught  in  the  act  of  drawing  or 
painting. 

Salvator  was  ordered  to  give  up  his  pleasant  amuse- 
ment ;  and  as  he  continually  disobeyed,  punishments  and 
imprisonment  recalled  him  to  duty.  He  was  indignant 
at  such  tyranny,  and  revenged  himself  by  drawing  cari- 
catures of  his  masters  upon  the  walls.  The  surprise 
of  the  fathers  was  very  great  when  they  saw  themselves 


308  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

thus  disfigured,  and  they  thought  of  driving  Salvator 
from  the  convent;  but  one  of  them,  who  loved  young 
Rosa  very  much,  obtained  his  pardon,  and  succeeded  in 
persuading  him  to  study.  Salvator  promised  to  submit 
to  the  orders  of  his  teachers  as  well  as  he  could,  and 
again  took  up  his  studies.  The  fathers,  satisfied  with 
his  submission,  abated  their  severity,  and  granted  him  a 
day's  vacation  from  time  'to  time.  Rosa  lived  only  for 
this  day.  No  sooner  was  he  at  liberty,  than  he  ran  to 
the  house  of  Greco,  the  painter,  one  of  his  uncles,  and 
painted,  under  his  direction,  until  it  was  time  to  return 
to  his  studies.  This  lasted  a  year  or  so,  after  which 
Salvator,  although  fearing  the  severity  of  his  father, 
declared  that  he  had  no  taste  for  the  career  which  had 
been  marked  out  for  him,  and  did  not  wish  to  complete 
his  studies.  The  fathers  advised  Antonio  Rosa  not  to 
constrain  his  son  any  longer,  but  to  take  him  home. 
However,  Antonio  was  not  to  be  persuaded :  he  obsti- 
nately refused  to  give  Salvator  what  was  necessary  for 
drawing  and  painting,  hoping  by  so  doing  to  make  him 
ashamed  of  being  idle,  and  that  he  would  return  to  the 
books  which  he  had  given  up.  But  it  was  all  to  no 
purpose.  Salvator,  not  being  permitted  to  follow  his  in- 
clination, gave  himself  up  to  music  and  painting. 

Some  of  the  songs  which  he  composed  became  popu- 
lar in  Naples  :  they  promised  him  fortune  and  glory,  so 
that  Antonio  allowed  him  to  do  as  he  wished.  Salvator, 
overjoyed,  ran  to  Greco  to  get  instruction ;  very  soon, 


PAINTERS.  309 

however,  he  perceived  that  his  uncle  was  only  a  poor 
dauber,  and  he  thought  of  finding  some  better  teacher, 
when  his  sister  married  Francazano,  pupil  of  Ribera. 
Salvator  left  his  uncle's  studio  for  that  of  his  brother-in- 
law  ;  yet  he  was  much  more  indebted  to  the  study  of 
nature  than  to  his  new  teacher.  A  painter  and  poet, 
he  knew  how  to  express  all  the  emotions  excited  in  him 
by  the  contemplation  of  the*beautiful  sky  of  Naples, 
the  blue  waves  which  bathe  the  city,  Vesuvius,  which 
threatens  it,  and  the  picturesque  sites  which  surround  it. 
He  far  surpassed  Francazano,  or  rather  what  he  did 
could  not  be  compared  to  the  works  of  any  other 
painter,  because  his  manner  was  all  his  own ;  and  An- 
tonio, notwithstanding  all  his  prejudice  against  the  art, 
could  not  help  being  proud  of  the  genius  apparent  in 
the  pictures  signed  Salvatoriello  (little  Salvator)  ,  he 
hoped  that  the  young  man  would  enjoy  a  brilliant  posi- 
tion as  soon  as  he  became  well  known.  Before  this  ex- 
cellent father's  dream  of  happiness  was  realized,  death 
summoned  him  to  the  spirit  land. 

Added  to  the  heavy  loss  which  Salvator,  who  was 
scarcely  seventeen  years  old,  experienced  by  his  father's 
death,  was  the  care  of  the  family,  which  it  was  impossi- 
ble for  him  to  sustain,  with  all  his  good  will  and  untir- 
ing assiduity.  With  all  his  efforts,  he  only  succeeded 
in  preventing  his  mother,  sister,  and  two  brothers,  still 
very  young,  from  dying  of  hunger.  His  mother  and 
sister,  afflicted  at  being  burdensome  to  him,  and  fear- 


310  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

ing  that  the  necessity  of  painting  rapidly  might  injure 
the  development  of  his  talent,  entered  the  house  of 
the  Viceroy  of  Naples  as  domestics,  and  public  charity 
aided  him  in  the  care  of  his  little  brothers.  Francazano 
had  not  succeeded  in  becoming  renowned,  and  the  most 
frightful  misery  reigned  in  this  house.  Too  proud  to 
complain  and  to  beg,  the  sister  of  Salvator  languished 
for  a  time,  and  died  of  want. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  express  the  sufferings  of 
Salvator,  endowed,  as  he  was,  with  a  loving  heart,  a 
proud  and  generous  nature,  and  a  genius  which  needed 
only  to  expand :  the  sombre  tint,  and  the  sharp  and 
wild  sadness,  which  predominate  in  his  pictures,  are  to 
be  attributed  to  these  sufferings.  He  worked  unre- 
mittingly, and  sold  his  pictures  to  a  dealer  in  Naples, 
who  did  not  half  pay  for  them  ;  and  when  the  poor  child 
had  laid  aside  the  sum  necessary  for  the  purchase  of 
colors  and  brushes,  to  begin  something  else,  he  had 
hardly  enough  left  to  support  himself. 

One  day  the  city  was  in  a  state  of  excitement,  on  ac- 
count of  the  arrival  of  Lanfranc,  the  celebrated  painter 
of  cupolas,  who  came  to  decorate  the  dome  of  St. 
Janvier.  Everybody  desired  to  see  the  artist  of  whom 
they  had  heard  so  much,  and  Salvator,  more  anxious 
than  others,  tried  to  find  the  imprint  of  glory  upon  his 
head.  He  followed  the  great  painter  with  the  crowd, 
when  he  saw  him  stop  at  the  show  window  of  the  dealer 
with  whom  he  traded.  Lanfranc's  attention  was  drawn 


PAINTERS.  311 

to  Salvator's  landscapes,  and  calling  the  trader,  he  con- 
versed with  him  in  an  undertone  of  voice.  Salvator, 
pale  with  emotion,  had  crowded  so  near  the  speakers, 
that  he  did  not  lose  a  word  of  their  conversation.  When 
Lanfranc  expressed  a  desire  to  see  the  author  of  the 
pictures,  he  could  have  said  "  Here  am  I ;  "  but  a  glance 
at  his  shabby  clothing  prevented,  and  fearing  that  the 
dealer  might  see  and  expose  him,  he  ran  away  with  all 
his  might.  However,  he  did  not  fail  to  return  in  the 
course  of  the  day,  and  what  he  had  foreseen,  came  to 
pass  :  the  dealer  offered  him  rather,  more  for  the  small 
picture  which  he  brought,  than  he  had  hitherto  done. 
Salvator  became  difficult,  and  boasted  of  the  merit  of 
his  picture,  and  after  some  conversation,  the  trader  paid 
him  a  good  price  for  it.  Young  Kosa  ran  immediately 
to  a  tailor's,  chose  a  complete  suit,  and  the  next  day 
presented  himself  to  Lanfranc.  He  was  well  received, 
and  Lanfranc  gave  him  an  order  for  some  landscapes, 
for  which  he  paid  him  liberally.  The  dealer  in  pic- 
tures, who  had  so  long  disdained  his  productions,  began 
to  be  anxious  for  them.  After  having  suffered  so  much 
on  account  of  the  poverty  of  his  family,  as  well  as  him- 
self, fortune  at  length  smiled  upon  Salvator.  He 
thought  himself  rich  as  soon  as  his  works  procured  him 
an  honorable  living.  He  asked  no  more,  but  Lanfranc 
advised  him  to  go  to  Rome,  to  perfect  himself  by  the 
study  of  the  great  masters.  He  furnished  him  with  the 
means,  and  recommended  him  to  a  very  rich  gentleman, 


312  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

who  was  much  pleased  to  take  Salvator  with  him,  and 
bear  all  the  expenses  of  his  journey. 

The  young  painter  saw,  with  astonishment,  the  won- 
ders collected  in  the  city  of  arts :  he  could  never  tire 
of  admiring  the  masterpieces  of  Michael  Angelo,  of 
Eaphael,  and  the  beauties  of  antiquity ;  but  he  fell  sick 
in  the  midst  of  his  studies,  and  was  obliged  to  return  to 
Naples.  The  reputation  which  Lanfranc  gave  him  in 
his  native  city,  allowed  him  to  lead  an  honorable  and 
comfortable,  if  not  a  luxurious  life.  He  painted  some 
historic  pictures,  which  were  much  esteemed ;  but  his 
combats,  marine  views,  and,  more  than  all,  his  land- 
scapes, were  greatly  admired. 

Salvator  excelled  in  representing  wild  and  picturesque 
scenery,  mountains,  abrupt  gorges,  torrents,  and  forests, 
and  he  knew  how  to  animate  all  these  with  figures, 
which  made  his  pictures  grandiose  or  terrible.  He 
painted  with  such  facility,  that  he  often  finished  a  pic- 
ture in  a  day.  When  he  needed  a  model,  either  for 
attitudes  or  features  of  his  figures,  he  placed  himself 
before  a  large  mirror,  and  studied  the  changes  which  joy, 
laughter,  or  grief  impressed  upon  his  features. 

He  continued  to  cultivate  poetry,  and  his  house  was 
the  rendezvous  of  the  literati  of  Naples.  But  it  is  in 
the  nature  of  man  to  be  unsatisfied :  Salvator  longed  to 
be  in  Rome,  which  he  had  seen  but  imperfectly,  and  of 
which  he  thought  continually  in  his  dreams  of  poetry 
and  art.  He  readily  accepted  the  invitation  of  Car- 


PAINTERS.  313 

dinal  Brancaccio  to  go  to  Rome.  When  he  left  Naples, 
he  thought  it  would  be  for  a  long  time,  although  he 
loved  his  independence  more  than  he  loved  Rome.  He 
had  been  in  Rome  only  a  short  time,  when  he  became 
very  melancholy,  under  the  gilded  ceilings  of  the  palace 
Brancaccio,  and  he  returned  to  Naples. 

Fate  seemed  to  drive  Salvator  from  one  of  these  cities 
to  the  other ;  he  had  hardly  established  himself  in  Na- 
ples, before  he  sighed  for  Rome  :  this  time  fortune  and 
glory  united  with  the  poetic  charm  of  the  Eternal  City, 
in  the  imagination  of  the  painter.  However,  he  was 
aware  of  the  obstacles  which  he  would  have  to  sur- 
mount, in  order  to  get  a  name  in  this  capital,  where 
illustrious  artists,  Italian  and  foreign,  were  in  great 
renown.  He  expected  to  become  known  through  his 
poetry,  as  well  as  by  his  painting,  and  the  event  proved 
that  he  had  judged  rightly. 

It  was  the  time  of  Carnival.  Salvator,  disguised  as  a 
juggler,  ran  through  Rome  several  days,  dealing  out 
to  his  rivals  epigrams  and  satires,  full  of  wit  and  pi- 
quancy. Soon  this  witty  dealer  in  puffs,  whose  muse 
could  not  be  embarrassed  or  intimidated,  became  the 
talk  of  the  city.  Everybody  wished  to  see  and  to  hear 
him.  He  overcame  all  adversaries  by  his  ridicule,  and 
when  he  was  sure  of  the  public  favor,  and  showed  his 
pictures,  he  was  saluted  with  enthusiastic  acclamations. 
At  first,  curiosity  caused  his  paintings  to  be  sought  by 
the  nobility  of  Rome ;  then,  appreciating  the  merit  of 


314  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

them,  his  pictures  came  in  vogue,  and  his  fortune  was 
made.  He  lived  like  a  noble,  and  in  great  splendor. 
But  this  opulence  came  late,  and  if  it  flattered  the  self- 
love  of  the  painter,  it  was  far  from  satisfying  his  heart ; 
his  mother  and  his  dear  sisters  had  died  without  partak- 
ing his  good  fortune.  He  had  become  rich  and  cele- 
brated ;  now  he  wished  to  go  back  to  Naples,  where  he 
had  been  poor  and  unknown. 

He  was  in  the  city  when  the  revolution  of  1647, 
which  put  the  fisherman,  Masaniello,  in  the  place  of  the 
Viceroy  of  Philip  IV.,  broke  out.  The  recollection  of 
his  past  misery,  and  the  love  of  liberty,  threw  Salvator 
into  the  popular  party  :  he  sustained  the  revolt  with  all 
his  eloquence  of  speech,  and  counselled  Masaniello. 
But  a  change  in  public  opinion  took  place  at  the  ap- 
proach of  Philip's  troops,  and  the  Fisher  King  was  put 
to  death  by  those  who  had  proclaimed  him  their  chief. 
Salvator  fled  to  Rome,  where  he  painted  his  most  cel- 
ebrated pieces, — Democritus  among  the  Tombs,  Pro- 
metheus on  Mount  Caucasus,  the  Death  of  Socrates, 
the  Death  of  Regulus,  and  Human  Fragility  and 
Fortune :  these  were  allegories,  in  which  the  authorities 
recognized  a  satire,  and  signed  an  order  for  the  imprison- 
ment of  Salvator. 

Then  he  took  refuge  in  Florence,  where  the  Grand 
Duke  intrusted  him  with  the  decoration  of  the  Pitti  Pal- 
ace. For  ten  years  Rosa  enjoyed  the  favor  of  the  prince, 
who  was  charmed  by  his  triple  talent  of  musician,  paint- 


PAINTERS.  315 

er,  and  poet.  There  was  no  court  festival  to  which  he 
was  not  invited,  and  all  the  Florentine  nobility  gathered 
daily  in  the  sumptuous  dwelling  of  the  artist.  He  tore 
himself  away  from  his  calm  and  happy  mode  of  living, 
and  went  to  Rome,  where  he  found  the  old  hatred  and 
envy  which  had  so  often  pursued  him  :  his  enemies  went 
so  far  as  to  deny  his  genius  for  painting  and  poetry ; 
but  he  answered  their  defiance,  by  composing  the  poem 
of  Envy,  and  painting  a  magnificent  Battle,  for  Louis 
XIV.  This  picture  is  now  in  the  gallery  of  the  Louvre. 

Jealousy  had  nothing  to  oppose  to  such  proofs,  and 
was  silent.  Salvator,  who  was  considered  one  of  the 
greatest  artists  of  his  age,  showed  himself  worthy  of  the 
homage  paid  him  by  producing  more  beautiful  pictures, 
the  most  celebrated  of  which  is  the  Ghost  of  Samuel 
appearing  to  Saul,  to  announce  his  approaching  end. 

Salvator  was  still  young,  but  his  years  of  sorrow  had 
doubled  their  weight  in  the  balance  of  death ;  his  eye- 
sight failed,  then  his  memory ;  the  pencil,  lately  so  sure 
and  so  bold,  trembled  in  his  hand.  Disease  of  the  liver 
caused  him  great  suffering,  then  dropsy  set  in,  and  this 
great  artist  died  in  1673,  at  the  age  of  fifty-eight  years. 

He  preserved  his  good  humor,  or  rather  his  habit  of 
raillery,  to  the  last.  People  were  deceived  by  his  false 
gayety,  and  did  not  know  that  he  had  chosen  this  iron 
mask  to  dissimulate  all  the  bitterness  with  which  the 
first  years  of  his  life  had  filled  his  heart.  All  the  artists, 
and  persons  of  wit  and  taste,  were  drawn  to  his  house  by 


316  THE  PRINCES   OF  ART. 

the  charm  of  his  conversation ;  and  those  who  sought 
only  pleasure,  were  also  happy  to  be  admitted,  for 
Salvator  gave  magnificent  entertainments  and  feasts, 
over  which  he  presided  with  great  hospitality.  He  dec- 
orated the  lower  rooms  of  his  house,  and  transformed 
them  into  a  theatre,  where  he  caused  to  be  played,  and 
played  himself,  pieces  of  his  own  composition.  The 
great  prices  which  were  paid  for  his  pictures  enabled 
him  to  be  hospitable  and  generous  as  a  prince.  He 
who  once  could  scarcely  live  by  the  fruits  of  his  labor, 
now  took  pleasure  in  demanding  enormous  prices  for  his 
pictures,  and  such  was  his  reputation  that  his  preten- 
sions were  not  considered  exorbitant. 

Colonna  sent  him  a  purse  full  of  gold  in  return  for  a 
picture.  Salvator  acknowleged  this  generosity,  by  an- 
other picture  more  beautiful  than  the  first.  Colonna 
sent  a  larger  purse.  The  painter  sent  a  third  picture, 
then  a  fourth,  each  being  paid  in  the  same  way.  Finally, 
upon  the  reception  of  the  fifth,  Colonna  sent  two  purses 
to  Salvator,  saying  that  he  ceded  the  honor  of  the  com- 
bat to  him,  and  recognized  in  him  an  inexhaustible 
genius. 

No  painter  has  ever  been  able  to  imitate  Salvator 
Kosa.  However,  with  regard  to  correctness  and  ele- 
gance, his  figures  are  sometimes  wanting ;  but  there  is  a 
truth,  boldness,  and  grandeur  about  them  which  adds 
much  to  the  effect  of  the  landscape  which  they  are  des- 
tined to  animate.  The  battles  which  he  has  painted, 


PAINTERS.  317 

make  the  beholder  shudder,  so  true  has  he  represented 
the  fury  of  the  combatants,  the  sufferings  of  the  wound- 
ed, the  confused  entanglement  of  men  and  horses,  and 
all  the  horrors  which  seem  present  to  the  spectator.  The 
Banditti  of  Salvator  are  perfectly  represented.  It  is 
probably  owing  to  this  fact  that  his  enemies  accused  him 
of  having  been  one  of  a  band  of  brigands,  who  had 
taken  refuge  in  the  Abruzzi  after  the  revolution ;  but 
nothing  is  more  preposterous  than  such  an  idea.  Sal- 
vator found  the  greater  part  of  the  types  which  he  has 
rendered  in  so  striking  a  manner  in  his  fertile  and  bold 
imagination. 

This  great  artist  was  buried  in  Rome. 


ENGRAVERS. 


ALBEET  DURER. 

ALBERT  DUEER,  the  glory  of  the  German  school,  was 
born  at  Nuremberg,  in  1471.  His  father,  originally 
from  Hungary,  had  come  to  Germany  several  years  pre- 
vious to  perfect  himself  as  a  silversmith,  and  had  be- 
come very  skilful  in  his  profession,  which  is  almost  an 
art.  Albert  was  his  second  son,  and  fourteen  other 
children  were  afterwards  born  to  him.  Durer  educated 
this  numerous  family  in  the  fear  of  God  and  the  love 
of  virtue,  and  wishing  to  give  a  position  to  each  of  his 
children,  he  studied  their  characters  and  their  tastes 
with  great  care.  Albert  soon  distinguished  himself  by 
his  intelligence,  sweetness  of  disposition,  and  application 
to  study,  and  was  chosen  by  his  father  as  his  successor. 
When  he  was  sufficiently  advanced  in  his  studies,  his 
father  began  to  teach  him  silversmithery. 

The  young  Durer  did  his  best  to  satisfy  his  teacher, 
and  after  some  years  he  worked  in  gold  and  silver  with 

(318) 


ENGRAVERS.  319 

much  taste.  But  jewellers  then  being  often  brought 
into  connection  with  painters  who  furnished  them  with 
designs  to  execute  upon  the  pieces  of  jewelry,  Albert, 
after  having  admired  their  talent  for  a  long  time,  tried 
to  copy  some  little  pictures  which  ornamented  his  father's 
house.  At  first  he  did  not  succeed ;  but  persevering, 
he  was  at  length  not  dissatisfied  with  his  own  unas- 
sisted attempts,  and  he  expressed  to  his  father  his  desire 
of  leaving  silversmithery  for  painting.  Durer,  seeing 
in  this  wish  only  the  caprice  to  which  young  people  too 
easily  yield,  reprimanded  his  son,  and  forbade  him  to 
occupy  himself  thereafter  with  any  other  business  than 
that  which  was  given  him. 

Albert  promised  to  obey,  and  kept  his  word  for  some 
months  ;  then,  one  day,  when  his  mother  bought  a  beau- 
tiful picture  of  the  Madonna,  he  forgot  the  order  which 
he  had  promised  to  respect,  and  passed  a  part  of  the 
night  in  copying  this  picture.  The  light  of  his  lamp 
betrayed  him,  and  while  he  was  finishing  his  Madonna 
in  great  joy,  the  door  of  his  chamber  opened,  and  his 
father  entered.  Albert,  confused  by  his  disobedience, 
rose,  and  approaching  his  father,  humbly  asked  pardon. 

"  I  thought  I  had  a  submissive  and  respectful  child  in 
you,"  said  his  father,  "and  see  with  regret  that  I  de- 
ceived myself." 

"  Take  back  those  words,  I  beg  you,  my  father  :  I  ven- 
erate, I  love  you,  and  had  no  intention  of  offending  you. 
Since  you  forbade  me,  I  have  not  touched  a  pencil,  and 


320  THE   PRINCES   OF   ART. 

I  know  not  how  it  was  that  seeing  this  beautiful  picture, 
I  entirely  forgot  the  promise  I  made  you.  You  see  me 
ashamed  and  penitent;  pardon  me  for  this  once." 

"  This  is  no  time  for  a  long  conversation ;  your  broth- 
ers and  sisters  are  sleeping ;  do  as  they  do  :  tomorrow 
I  will  speak  with  you." 

Albert  bowed,  and  the  silversmith  had  not  regained 
his  chamber  when  the  sketch  was  put  away  and  the 
lamp  extinguished.  But,  although  the  young  man 
would  gladly  have  slept,  as  his  father  «ad vised  him,  the 
thought  of  the  reprimand,  which,  without  doubt,  he 
would  receive  on  the  morrow,  kept  his  eyes  open  during 
several  hours.  It  was  not  because  Durer  was  a  severe 
father  ;  he  always  spoke  reasonably  with  his  children  ;  but 
precisely  because  he  was  so  good,  a  severe  word  from 
his  mouth  was  a  dreaded  punishment.  Morning  came, 
Albert  rose,  and  after  family  prayers,  he  followed  his 
father  into  his  study.  But  instead  of  the  reproaches 
which  he  was  expecting  to  receive,  he  saw  his  father 
reach  out  his  hand  to  him.  He  took  it,  and  pressed  it 
to  his  lips  with  tenderness  and  gratitude. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  much  of  you  the  past  night, 
my  son,"  said  the  father,  "and  I  really  think  that  you 
would  succeed  as  a  painter.  Come  with  me;  I  will 
take  you  to  Hupse  Martin." 

Great  was  Albert's  joy :  Hupse  Martin  was  in  great 
reputation  at  Nuremberg  as  a  painter  and  an  engraver, 
and  it  had  long  been  the  dream  of  the  young  silversmith 


ENGRAVERS.  321 

to  be  admitted  into  his  studio  at  some  future  day  as  his 
pupil.  The  young  Durer  became  skilful  in  engraving, 
and  began  to  paint  under  the  direction  of  this  master. 
Afterwards  he  left  the  studio  of  Martin  for  that  of 
Michael  Wolfmuth,  who  occupied  himself  more  par- 
ticularly in  painting :  here  he  devoted  himself  to  the 
study  of  painting  and  architecture. 

He  remained  with  Wolfmuth  until  he  was  twenty-one 
years  old,  working  assiduously,  and  surpassing  all  the 
hopes  which  this  learned  master  had  conceived  of  him. 
Not  content  with  simple  listening  to  the  instructions  of 
his  teacher,  Albert  daily  wrote  a  summary  of  them,  to 
fix  them  in  his  memory ;  and,  thanks  to  this  precaution, 
he  was  able  some  years  after  to  publish  treatises  on  per- 
spective, and  civil  and  military  architecture, — works 
which  added  much  to  his  reputation. 

In  1492  he  went  to  Colmar,  where  the  brothers 
Schonganer,  astonished  to  find  so  much  talent  in  a 
young  man,  gave  him  a  friendly  reception. 

After  working  two  years  at  Colmar,  he  returned  to 
Nuremberg,  where  he  married  the  daughter  of  an  able 
machinist.  Albert  Durer  had  a  manner  of  painting  and 
engraving  which  was  independent  of  his  masters,  and 
people  soon  perceived  that  his  works  were  very  superior 
to  all  which  had  been  done  by  German  artists  up  to  that 
time. 

Albert  was  happy  to  have  succeeded  by  his  talent  in 
creating  a  sure  position,  while  he  was  devoid  of  the  am- 
21 


322  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

bition  which  often  torments  men  of  genius :  he  wished 
but  for  one  thing ;  to  live  in  peace,  and  to  have  the 
society  of  a  loving  and  devoted  wife  in  the  hours  not 
spent  in  work.  This  wish,  however,  was  not  realized : 
the  temper  of  the  companion  whom  he  had  chosen  was 
often  crabbed  and  disagreeable,  and  whatever  concessions 
the  artist  made,  he  could  not  calm  her  excitement,  or 
free  himself  from  her  persecutions. 

It  was  a  cruel  discovery  for  Albert :  his  life  was 
poisoned ;  he  did  not  complain,  but  he  felt  a  disappoint- 
ment and  chagrin,  which  neither  fortune  nor  honors 
could  console.  The  Emperor  Maximilian,  having  seen 
some  of  his  pictures,  invited  him  to  his  court,  where  he 
received  him  with  great  distinction.  He  confided  the 
decoration  of  his  palace  to  him,  and  his  esteem  for  the 
man  soon  equalled  his  admiration  for  the  artist,  and  he 
took  pleasure  in  seeing  him  work,  and  conversing  with 
him. 

One  day,  when  Albert  was  drawing  a  group  upon  the 
wall,  the  emperor  observed  that  the  ladder  upon  which 
he  was  standing  was  not  firm,  and  he  made  a  sign  to 
one  of  the  noblemen  of  his  suite  to  hold  it.  The  noble- 
man, surprised  to  receive  such  an  order,  stepped  back, 
and  calling  a  domestic,  told  him  to  hold  the  ladder. 
Maximilian  dismissed  the  servant  by  a  gesture,  and  ap- 
proaching the  painter,  did  not  leave  the  foot  of  the  lad- 
der until  the  drawing  was  finished.  When  Albert 
descended,  the  emperor  created  him  a  nobleman,  and 


ENGRAVERS.  323 

gave  him  three  escutcheons  of  silver,  upon  an  azure 
ground. 

"Know,"  said  he  to  his  courtiers,  "that  the  title 
which  I  give  Albert  Durer  does  not  raise  him  in  the 
esteem  of  any  sensible  man ;  for  he  is  indebted  to  his 
talent  for  a  grand  and  illustrious  nobility,  which  none 
of  you  possess.  An  act  of  our  imperial  pleasure  can 
make  a  count  or  a  duke,  whilst  it  is  God  who  makes 
the  artist." 

Albert  was  at  court  for  a  considerable  time,  and 
made  not  only  fine  paintings,  but  a  great  number  of  his 
engravings,  which  are  much  esteemed.  Returning  to 
Nuremberg,  he  continued  to  seek  consolation  for  his 
ennui  in  work  :  he  could  scarcely  fill  the  orders  which  he 
received ;  kings  and  princes  disputed  for  his  pictures  and 
his  engravings.  Charles  V.,  and  Ferdinand,  King  of 
Hungary,  loaded  him  with  presents  and  testimonies  of 
their  affection,  and  all  persons  of  note  in  Nuremberg 
desired  his  friendship.  But,  though  polite  and  kind  to 
all,  he  was  far  from  being  prodigal  of  the  title  of  friend  ; 
for  he  understood  the  qualities  it  required,  and  the  duties 
it  imposed.  It  is  seen  by  the  letters  which  he  wrote 
from  Italy  to  Senator  Pirkheimer  that  he  considered  this 
friend  as  another  self,  and  did  not  fear  to  open  his  entire 
heart  to  him. 

Let  us  speak  of  this  journey  to  Italy,  which  was  the 
happiest  period  in  the  life  of  our  artist.  Albert  Durer 
was  thirty-four  years  old  when  he  wished  to  visit  the 


324  THE    PRINCES    OF   ART. 

country  of  Michael  Angelo,  of  Raphael,  and  of  Titian. 
Those  who  truly  loved  him,  had  been  advising  him  for  a 
long  time  to  make  this  artist  pilgrimage ;  but  his  wife, 
who  took  a  cruel  pleasure  in  thwarting  his  tastes,  pre- 
vented him,  as  long  as  she  could,  from  following  the 
advice  of  his  friends.  Albert  was  endowed  with  supe- 
rior intelligence,  a  great  and  noble  soul,  and  a  powerful 
genius ;  but  he  was  a  friend  of  peace  and  tranquillity, 
and  had  the  habit  of  obeying  his  exacting  companion. 
He  could  not  find  strength  in  his  heart  to  shake  off  his 
yoke.  Pirkheimer  was  obliged  to  insist,  repeatedly,  in 
order  to  decide  him  to  go  to  Italy. 

At  length  he  set  out,  and  was  received  with  honor  in 
all  the  different  cities  through  which  he  passed  ;  for  his 
name  had  become  popular.  His  reception  at  Venice 
was  enthusiastic  :  all  the  artists  of  that  beautiful  city 
hurried  to  see  Albert,  whose  magnificent  engravings 
were  well  known  in  Italy.  The  fraternity  of  German 
merchants  obtained  the  preference  over  all  the  guilds 
who  requested  pictures  from  the  illustrious  visitor.  Al- 
bert painted  a  St.  Bartholomew  for  his  countrymen 
residing  in  Venice  :  it  was  so  much  liked,  that  they  paid 
him  one  hundred  and  ten  florins  for  it.  All  the  Vene- 
tian nobles  wished  to  see  the  able  painter,  and  disputed 
with  each  other  the  honor  of  showing  him  hospitality. 
Surrounded  by  so  many  flattering  testimonies,  Durer 
forgot  for  a  time  his  domestic  troubles ;  so  that  those 
who  saw  him  were  as  much  enchanted  by  his  charming 


ENGRAVERS.  325 

spirit,  his  affectionate  manners,  and  his  amiable  gayety, 
as  by  his  rare  talent. 

Leaving  Venice,  he  went  to  Bologna,  where  he  met 
with  the  same  reception.  In  this  city  he  devoted  some 
time  to  the  study  of  perspective,  and  was  preparing  to 
go  to  Rome,  when  business  obliged  him  to  return  to 
Germany.  With  regret,  he  bade  adieu  to  the  beau- 
tiful sky  of  Italy,  under  which  his  heart  had  expanded 
and  his  genius  developed,  and  sadly  turned  towards 
Nuremberg.  His  first  work,  after  his  return,  was  his 
own  portrait,  which  he  sent  to  Raphael.  He  had  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  this  incomparable  artist,  and  both 
had  promised  to  renew  their  acquaintance  at  Rome. 
This  portrait,  painted  in  water-colors,  upon  a  very  fine 
cloth,  was  much  admired  by  Raphael,  who  thanked 
Albert  in  a  very  friendly  letter,  and  sent  him  some 
valuable  drawings. 

Albert  worked  unceasingly  as  painter,  engraver,  and 
sculptor,  during  fourteen  years,  and  his  work  improved 
daily.  Sincerely  religious,  he  took  pleasure  in  repre- 
senting sacred  subjects.  The  Christs  of  Albert  Durer 
are  so  marvellously  beautiful  and  divine,  that  faith  alone 
could  have  given  them  that  character  of  sublime  sim- 
plicity. 

The  Saviour  on  the  Gross,  surrounded  by  a  glory, 
and  having  emperors,  cardinals,  and  popes  at  his  feet, 
is  considered  the  chef-d'oeuvre  of  Albert  Durer.  As  to 
engravings,  St.  Jerome  meditating  upon  the  Scrip- 


326  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

tures,  is,  perhaps,  the  most  beautiful  which  art  has  thus 
far  produced. 

Albert  Durer  made  another  journey  in  1520  :  this 
time  he  went  to  Holland.  Here  he  became  acquainted 
with  Lucas  de  Leyde,  who  offered  him  his  house,  and 
with  whom  he  lived  for  several  months,  as  with  an  af- 
fectionate brother.  When  they  parted  they  exchanged 
portraits,  and,  though  separated  by  distance,  never  for- 
got each  other.  The  German  artist  met  with  a  kind 
reception  at  Antwerp,  where  a  large  number  of  painters 
were  united  in  a  corporation.  They  gave  a  banquet  in 
his  honor,  to  which  the  public  were  admitted,  so  that 
every  one  could  see  the  illustrious  stranger.  The  crowd 
did  not  fail  to  make  use  of  the  privilege ;  and  Albert, 
in  his  Journal  of  Arts,  where  he  gives  an  account  of 
his  journey,  says,  pleasantly,  that  the  crowd  broke  the 
sides  of  the  tables  in  pressing  to  see  the  celebrity. 

Durer  went  to  Aix-la-Chapelle,  to  be  present  at  the 
coronation  of  Charles  Y.  The  emperor  desired  to  see 
Durer,  and  to  manifest  the  esteem  he  had  for  his  talent. 
Emboldened  by  the  kindness  of  Charles  Y.,  Albert 
offered  the  Arch-duchess  Margarita  (daughter  of  Maxi- 
milian, who  had  so  nobly  revenged  the  artist  of  the 
disdain  of  a  nobleman)  the  portrait  of  her  august  father, 
which  she  refused.  Albert  was  much  hurt  by  her  re- 
fusal ;  and,  having  experienced  some  other  contrarieties, 
the  painter  returned  to  Nuremberg. 

There  he  resumed  his  chain ;  for  the  woman  who  had 


ENGRAVERS.  327 

the  honor  of  bearing  his  name  had  never  learned  to 
appreciate  his  genius  and  his  excellent  qualities ;  and, 
never  thinking  of  correcting  her  bad  temper,  that  she 
might  render  his  life  more  pleasant,  she  grew  worse, 
and  as  age  advanced,  became  a  scourge  to  him.  Al- 
bert had  need  of  all  the  patience  and  resignation  of  a 
Christian  to  bear  the  punishment  of  each  day.  At  first, 
he  had  flattered  himself  that  he  could  get  used  to  it ; 
but  it  is  impossible  to  get  used  to  being  misjudged 
and  persecuted.  His  trouble  wore  upon  him,  his  health 
gave  way,  and,  after  languishing  for  some  years,  he 
died,  at  the  age  of  fifty-seven. 

In  the  works  of  Albert  Durer,  we  admire  his  lively 
and  fruitful  imagination,  elevated  genius,  firm  execution, 
brilliant  coloring,  and  fine  finish.  However,  he  could 
not  entirely  avoid  the  defects  of  his  fellow-countrymen 
painters  —  too  stiff  drawing,  and  too  dry  a  style.  It  is 
to  be  regretted  that  Durer  had  somewhat  neglected  the 
study  of  costume,  and  the  art  of  perspective  in  the  grada- 
tion of  his  colors.  But  he  was  not  the  less  a  man  of 
great  genius.  He  was  self-made,  and  balanced  the  im- 
perfections of  his  labor  by  sentiment,  energy,  and  pas- 
sion, which  make  dramas  and  poems  of  his  works, 
whether  they  be  paintings  or  engravings. 

Albert  Durer  left  a  great  number  of  engravings  upon 
wood,  copper,  iron,  and  tin,  and  a  multitude  of  pen  and 
pencil  drawings.  He  succeeded  perfectly  in  portraits 
and  in  landscapes,  which  are  admired  for  piquancy  and 


328  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

grace.  This  artist  was  the  best  engraver  of  his  age ; 
and  Eaphael  was  so  struck  by  the  beauty  of  his  engra- 
vings, that  he  employed  Antonio  Raimondi  to  study  the 
manner  of  the  skilful  stranger. 

Albert  Durer  has  written  upon  geometry,  perspective, 
and  the  proportions  of  the  human  figure. 


CALLOT. 

Jacques  Callot  was  born  at  Nancy  in  1593  :  he  was 
the  son  of  a  herald-at-arms  in  Lorraine,  who,  designing 
him  to  follow  the  same  career  as  himself,  placed  him  at 
school  to  learn  to  read  and  write.  At  first  all  went  on 
well :  Jacques  was  not  wanting  in  docility  or  intelligence  ; 
but  as  he  grew  up  he  felt  a  great  aversion  for  the  pater- 
nal profession  —  an  aversion  which  came  from  the  desire 
which  he  had  for  another,  which,  without  doubt,  he  would 
not  be  allowed  to  follow.  His  greatest  pleasure  and 
most  assiduous  occupation  was  to  draw  portraits  and  fig- 
ures of  all  sorts  upon  his  books  and  his  copy-books,  which 
his  comrades  contemplated  with  curiosity  and  astonish- 
ment, and  to  engrave,  with  the  aid  of  his  knife,  upon 
the  school  tables,  or  upon  the  trees  in  the  garden. 

This  decided  taste  for  drawing  disquieted  his  father, 
who  expressly  forbade  it,  and  took  away  the  pencils  and 
patterns  which  the  child  had  procured.  This  was  a 
great  sorrow  to  Jacques,  who  wished  to  be  obedient ; 


ENGRAVERS.  329 

but  an  irresistible  force  impelled  him :  he  bought  new 
pencils  and  new  copies,  and  worked  with  more  ardor 
than  before.  For  a  while  he  concealed  his  work  so  well 
that  no  one  suspected  what  he  was  doing :  at  length  he 
was  less  cautious,  and  his  father  surprised  him.  Jacques 
experienced  the  harshness  and  severity  which  Mr.  Callot 
had  acquired  at  camp.  A  culpable  thought  came  into  the 
mind  of  the  child  ;  it  was  to  tear  himself  away  from  the, 
authority  which  he  could  not  brave  with  impunity  :  he* 
thought  and  thought,  and  finally,  one  fine  day,  eluding 
the  watch  which  was  kept  over  him,  fled  from  the  pa- 
ternal roof. 

He  walked  as  fast  as  his  twelve-years'-old  legs  could 
carry  him,  and  went  out  of  the  city,  and  through  the 
fields,  for  fear  of  being  pursued.  Evening  came,  and 
the  poor  child,  tired,  hungry,  and  frightened,  began  to 
repent  of  the  step  he  had  taken.  He  thought  of  the 
trouble  which  his  absence  would  cause  his  kind  and 
tender  mother,  and  he  reproached  himself  bitterly  for 
the  tears  which  she  would  shed ;  and,  yielding  to  a  good 
inspiration,  he  turned  back.  But  he  had  walked  so 
much  already  that  he  could  not  hope  to  regain  the  city 
before  the  next  day,  unless  he  should  meet  some  coun- 
tryman, who  would  give  him  a  ride  in  his  wagon ;  in 
which  case  he  would  be  obliged  to  acknowledge  his 
flight,  and  the  motives  which  induced  it.  What  would 
his  father,  who,  unfortunately,  was  then  at  home,  say? 
What  punishment  would  he  inflict  on  his  rebellious  son  ? 


330  THE   PRINCES    OF   ART. 

Jacques  was  afraid,  and,  not  knowing  what  was  best 
to  do,  seated  himself  upon  the  grass  which  bordered  the 
wood,  and  burst  into  tears.  Despite  his  sorrow,  despite 
the  phantoms  with  which  his  imagination,  fed  by  fright- 
ful stories,  peopled  the  darkness,  becoming  more  and 
more  profound,  he  fell  asleep.  At  daybreak  he  was 
awakened  by  a  company  of  Bohemians,  who  surrounded 
him,  and  who  were  surprised  to  find  a  well-dressed 
child,  at  this  early  hour,  sleeping  alone  by  the  side  of 
the  road.  Callot  was  startled  at  first  by  the  sight  of 
these  odd  people,  but  regaining  his  courage,  told  them 
what  he  had  done. 

Instead  of  persuading  him  to  return  to  his  parents,  at 
the  risk  of  being  reprimanded  and  punished,  the  vaga- 
bonds invited  him  to  go  with  them  to  Italy.  Jacques, 
though  ignorant  as  children  in  general  of  his  age,  knew 
that  there  were  many  great  painters  in  Italy ;  and  as  his 
greatest  fear  the  previous  evening  had  been  isolation, 
he  joyfully  accepted  the  proposition  of  the  Bohemians. 
He  was  strengthened  by  a  frugal  breakfast ;  and  without 
daring  to  think  of  his  parents,  from  whom  he  was  going 
so  far  away,  perhaps  for  a  very  long  time,  followed  his 
strange  companions. 

The  company  had  more  than  one  resource  for  getting 
their  living.  The  old  women  told  fortunes,  the  young 
girls  sang  and  danced  in  the  public  squares,  the  children 
begged,  and  the  men  gave  themselves  up  to  marauding, 
or  levied  contributions  upon  travellers.  All  this  was 


ENGRAVERS.  331 

far  from  the  honest  principles  in  which  Jacques  had 
been  educated,  and  he  often  regretted  his  flight,  for 
which  he  never  could  forgive  himself.  However,  he 
never  took  a  part  in  the  reprehensible  actions  of  the  Bo- 
hemians with  whom  fate  had  associated  him ;  when  they 
halted,  he  drew  the  most  expressive  faces  of  his  compan- 
ions, and  the  adventurers  sold  these  drawings  to  the 
traders  in  the  towns  and  villages  through  which  they 
passed. 

Finally  the  company  reached  Italy.  Callot  had  made 
great  progress  without  a  teacher,  and  without  other 
models  than  those  which  nature  offered ;  and  his  draw- 
ings, imperfect  as  they  were,  had  such  a  character  of 
originality  and  truth,  that  he  found  a  ready  sale  for 
them.  He  had  long  been  thinking  of  separating  from 
the  Bohemians,  but  as  he  was  more  closely  watched  by 
them  than  he  had  been  in  his  father's  house,  was  un- 
able to  execute  his  plan.  When  he  arrived  at  Florence, 
he  was  so  happy  as  to  gain  the  interest  of  one  of  the 
Grand  Duke's  officers,  who  took  him  under  his  protec- 
tion ;  and  after  the  departure  of  the  Bohemians,  placed 
him  with  an  engraver  of  renown,  named  Kemigio  Canta 
Gallina.  Jacques  was  very  grateful  to  this  teacher  for 
his  lessons,  and  profited  so  well  by  them,  that  in  a  very 
short  time  he  was  able  to  copy  from  the  great  masters,  — 
a  work  which  developed  his  talent  and  formed  his  taste. 

After  some  years  passed  in  Florence,  Callot  set  out 
for  Rome,  where  he  hoped  to  perfect  himself  in  his  art. 


332  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

He  was  scarcely  established  in  that  city,  when  he  was 
recognized  by  some  merchants  from  Nancy,  who  were 
his  father's  friends.  Jacques  was  glad  to  hear  from  his 
family,  of  whom  he  was  thinking  continually,  and  whom 
he  hoped  to  see  again,  when,  as  an  artist  of  renown,  he 
should  have  a  right  to  his  father's  indulgence.  But  the 
honest  merchants  did  not  wish  to  let  the  opportunity 
pass  of  taking  the  prodigal  son  back  to  the  parents  who 
had  been  so  much  afflicted  by  his  loss,  and  when  they 
had  finished  their  business,  they  forced  him  to  return 
with  them. 

The  desire  of  embracing  his  mother,  and  obtaining 
pardon  for  his  flight,  which  had  weighed  upon  his  con- 
science, prevented  his  resisting,  and  sustained  him  dur- 
ing a  part  of  the  journey,  but  the  nearer  he  approached 
Nancy  the  more  fearful  he  was  of  meeting  his  father. 
Although  still  very  young,  he  had  had  so  much  experi- 
ence since  leaving  his  father's  house,  that  his  reason 
was  much  matured :  his  fear  was  not  alone  on  account 
of  the  reproaches  and  punishment  which  he  expected, 
but  the  efforts  which  would  be  made  by  both  father  and 
mother  to  draw  him  from  the  career  which  he  had 
chosen ;  and  the  taste  which  had  shown  itself  in  his 
earliest  childhood,  had  now  become  an  irresistible  vo- 
cation. 

He  continued  his  route  for  some  days  in  a  state  of 
mental  disquiet  which  deprived  him  of  sleep  and  ap- 
petite. At  length  he  left  the  merchants,  and  returned  to 


ENGRAVERS.  333 

Italy.  Here  the  thought  of  those  whom  he  never  ceased 
to  cherish,  and  from  whom  he  had  gone  the  second  time, 
like  an  ungrateful  child,  slackened  his  ardor.  About  a 
week  after  he  had  left  the  merchants,  they  informed  his 
oldest  brother,  who  immediately  pursued  him.  He  over- 
took him  before  leaving  France,  and  had  no  difficulty  in 
taking  him  back  to  Nancy. 

Callot  was  wrong  in  anticipating  a  severe  reception  : 
is  there  not  in  the  heart  of  a  father  and  mother  an  in- 
exhaustible source  of  indulgence  and  love  ?  Introduced 
by  his  brother,  Jacques  threw  himself  at  his  father's 
feet,  weeping.  M.  Callot,  after  vainly  endeavoring  to 
retain  the  coldness  which  he  had  assumed,  opened  his 
arms  to  the  fugitive,  and  pressed  him  tenderly  to  his 
breast.  His  mother  did  not  try  to  dissimulate  the  joy 
with  which  her  heart  was  filled  by  the  return  of  her  be- 
loved boy ;  she  did  not  think  to  reproach  him  for  the 
tears  which  he  had  caused  her  to  shed ;  she  saw  him 
once  more ;  all  was  forgotten. 

It  is  true  that  M.  Callot  spoke  again  of  the  noble  pro- 
fession of  arms  ;  but  Jacques,  having  answered  by  pro- 
ducing the  drawings  which  he  had  brought  from  Italy, 
his  father  could  not  help  admiring  them,  and  taking  the 
hands  of  his  son,  he  said,  — 

"  Be  an  artist,  since  you  desire  it." 

Jacques,  delighted  to  have  gained  the  consent  of  his 
father,  dared  not  speak  immediately  of  returning  to  Italy  : 
he  felt  that  it  was  his  duty  to  consecrate  some  time  to 


334  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

his  family,  who  had  been  so  saddened  by  his  absence  ;  he 
therefore  took  lessons  in  engraving  of  Philip  Thomassin 
that  his  progress  need  not  be  retarded.  Painting  had 
few  attractions  for  him,  but  he  soon  excelled  in  engra- 
ving ;  and  when  at  length  he  went  back  to  Italy,  the 
Grand  Duke  of  Florence,  Cosmo  II.,  charmed  by  his 
talent,  retained  him  at  his  court,  and  loaded  him  with 
honors  and  presents. 

At  Florence,  Callot  began  to  engrave  those  small 
subjects,  in  which  he  displayed  the  fulness  and  delicacy 
of  his  genius.  His  reputation  grew  rapidly,  and  he 
could  not  return  to  Lorraine  until  after  the  death  of 
Cosmo,  who  esteemed  him  highly,  and  was  very  fond 
of  him.  Many  advantageous  offers  were  made  to  in- 
duce him  to  remain  in  Florence,  which  love  for  his  own 
country  caused  him  to  decline :  he  returned  to  Nancy, 
where  the  Duke  de  Lorraine  received  him  with  honor, 
and  assured  him  a  brilliant  position.  Jacques  con- 
tinued to  work  with  as  much  ardor  as  if  he  had  yet  to 
make  his  name  and  fortune. 

Louis  XIII.,  having  heard  of  him,  invited  him  to 
come  to  his  court,  and  confided  to  him  the  care  of  en- 
graving the  Siege  of  Rochelle,  and  taking  of  the  Island 
of  Bhe*.  Callot  acquitted  himself  of  the  task  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  merit  the  praise  of  all  connoisseurs,  and  to 
obtain  the  favor  of  the  king  and  of  Cardinal  Richelieu. 
Some  time  after,  a  war,  intended  to  crush  the  house  of 
Austria,  broke  out,  and  the  city  of  Nancy  was  taken  by 


ENGRAVERS.  335 

the  French  troops.  It  is  well  known  that  Lorraine  was 
governed  by  the  posterity  of  Gerard  of  Alsace,  until  the 
year  1735,  an  epoch  in  which  the  treaty  of  Vienna  re- 
united it  to  France,  on  condition  that  Stanislaus  Lec- 
zinski,  despoiled  of  the  throne  of  Poland,  should  reign 
until  his  death,  over  this  duchy,  erected  into  a  kingdom. 

Louis  XIII.  ordered  Callot  to  represent  the  taking 
of  Nancy,  as  he  had  that  of  Rochelle  and  the  Island  of 
Rlie*  ;  but  Callot  was  not  a  Frenchman  ;  he  was  from 
Lorraine.  The  defeat  of  the  duke,  his  master,  and  the 
disaster  of  his  beloved  city,  grieved  him,  and  he  had  no 
idea  that  he  should  be  asked  to  immortalize  this  defeat, 
and  this  desolation,  by  his  graver.  He  supplicated  the 
king  to  excuse  him,  and  explained  the  motive  of  his  un- 
willingness to  obey.  One  of  the  lords  present  at  this 
interview  of  the  engraver  with  Louis  XIII.,  thought 
to  please  the  king  by  trying  to  intimidate  Callot  with 
threats. 

"Sire,  here  is  my  right  hand,"  said  Jacques ;  "you 
can  cut  it  off,  and  I  swear  to  you  that  I  would  cut  it  off 
myself,  sooner  than  obey  such  orders  of  your  majesty." 

The  king  admired  the  courage  and  patriotism  of  the 
artist,  and  promised  to  ask  of  him  nothing  which  was 
not  in  strict  accordance  with  his  honor,  and  offered  him 
a  pension  of  three  thousand  francs  to  attach  him  to  his 
service.  Callot  thanked  Louis  XIII.,  and  begged  that 
he  would  excuse  him  from  accepting  these  propositions, 
brilliant  and  flattering  as  they  were,  and  allow  him  to 


336  THE   PRINCES   OF  ART. 

go  back  to  Lorraine,  so  that  no  one  should  accuse  him 
of  abandoning  his  country  for  those  who  were  its  de- 
clared enemies,  and  that  he  could  not  reproach  himself 
for  having  left  the  Duke  of  Lorraine,  vanquished,  to  live 
on  the  benefactions  of  his  conqueror. 

Louis  XIII.,  while  he  regretted  the  loss  of  this  artist, 
could  not  but  admire  his  disinterestedness  and  the  great- 
ness of  his  soul,  and  gave  him  liberty  to  leave  Paris 
when  he  would.  Jacques  returned  to  Nancy,  and  re- 
commenced his  work :  he  died  at  the  age  of  forty-two. 
His  engravings  amounted  to  six  hundred  pieces. 

No  one  has  equalled  this  master  in  the  art  of  repre- 
senting the  grotesque.  Old  men,  beggars,  lame  peo- 
ple, odd  faces,  were  represented  with  the  utmost  correct- 
ness. It  is  supposed  that  the  time  which  he  spent  with 
the  Bohemians  in  his  early  youth,  furnished  him  with 
the  types  which  he  had  reproduced,  and  varied  so  hap- 
pily. The  Fairs,  Markets,  Punishments,  Tavern 
Scenes,  Miseries  of  War,  the  Great  Street  of  Nancy, 
&c.,  are  among  the  works  of  Callot  which  are  most 
sought  by  amateurs. 

The  fecundity  and  fire  of  his  genius,  the  expression  of 
his  faces,  the  choice  and  distribution  of  his  subjects,  the 
variety  of  his  groups,  in  which  there  is  no  forced  con- 
trast, the  facility  of  labor,  the  piquancy  and  newness 
which  he  has  given  to  the  slightest  details,  place  him 
in  the  rank  of  the  most  celebrated  artists.  His  conduct 
at  the  court  of  Louis  XIII.  showed  him  as  a  noble  and 


ENGRAVERS.  337 

courageous  citizen.  Finally,  his  probity,  the  kindness 
of  his  heart,  his  anxiety  to  succor  the  victims  of  war, 
his  compassion  for  all  those  who  suffered,  recommend 
him  to  the  esteem,  as  his  talents  recommend  him  to  the 
admiration  of  posterity. 
22 


INDEX. 


INTRODUCTORY. 

PAGE 

THE  FINE  ARTS, l 

ARCHITECTURE, 2 

SCULPTURE, 4 

PAINTING, 9 

ENGRAVING, 18 

ARCHITECTS  AND   SCULPTORS. 

PHIDIAS, 20 

PRAXITELES, .26 

POLYCLETUS, 30 

LEONARDO  DA  VINCI, 31 

MICHAEL  ANGELO  BUONAROTTI, 44 

BENEVENUTO  CELLINI 79 

CANOVA, 88 

PAINTERS. 

THE  FIRST  PAINTERS, 95 

ZEUXIS.  — ARISTIDES, 98 

PARRHASIUS.  — TIMANTHES, 103 

APELLES, 107 

PROTOGENES, 114 

TITIAN.  -  GIORGIONE, 119 


340  INDEX. 

RAPHAEL  SANZIO, 142 

CORREGGIO, 102 

PAUL   VERONESE, 1G7 

GUIDO  RENI 175 

DOMENICHINO, 184 

RIBERA, 202 

VELASQUEZ, 217 

MURILLO, 230 

RUBENS, 243 

VAN  DYCK, 262 

REMBRANDT, 209 

('LE  POUSSIN, 279 

^CLAUDE  LORRAIN, 293 

LB  SUEUR, SCO 

SALVATOR  ROSA, 306 

ENGRAVERS. 

ALBERT  DURER, 318 

CALLOT,  328 


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